


As It Began (A Queen Fanfiction)

by 19BeyondGone49



Series: Clogs for Paws [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Band Fic, Camping, Clogs for Paws, Fluff, Gen, Hompy Bong, Hopefully. I think my readers are pretty smart, Humor, I think that I am going to regret this in the future, London, Lycan!Brian, Plot Twists, Pre-Queen (Band), Pre-Slash, Queen - Freeform, Red Special Guitar (Queen), So they might figure it out, Werewolf Lore, Werewolf Turning, Werewolf!Brian, Werewolves, What Was I Thinking?, oh goodness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24815635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19BeyondGone49/pseuds/19BeyondGone49
Summary: Brian May takes a break from studying for a final and goes on a camping trip with his long time friend Tim. Brian gets bit by a mysterious wolf and starts turns into a werewolf.OrA fic with werewolves, werewolves hunters, obscure history/connections, and yeah... Queen is there tooLight Maylor(This was inspired by 'Under the pale moon light' and the 'Ad Astra' series. Please go check those out!)
Series: Clogs for Paws [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794955
Comments: 77
Kudos: 41
Collections: BeyondGone's Queen Favorites





	1. the Trailer

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Under the pale moonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661830) by [blackacidapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackacidapple/pseuds/blackacidapple). 
  * Inspired by [well the moon is out tonight (maybe you can change his ways)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303413) by [sammyspreadyourwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings). 



> This work is a work of fiction. All things in here are dramatized for the sake of story telling. The characters are based off of the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their family. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply to any elements of this story. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Hello! 

This is a teaser trailer, if you will, of what I have planned. It is just to test the water to see how well this fic will be received. I'm going to write it either way, but I'm curious as heck and like interacting with my audience. I just can't wait anymore to post anything because I'm so excited to write! 

Ready for some werewolf!Brian?

Comment/bookmark if you are interested!

Edit- I am planning on turning this into a three-part series. Please enjoy!


	2. [Brian and Tim weren't exactly] Doing Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian goes on a camping trip with his old friend Tim at Hompy Bong Forest for a long weekend to get rid of some stress. 
> 
> The camping trip takes a turn for the unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Brian was absolutely pumped to see Tim. They've been planning a weekend camping trip for over a month and Brian hoped that visiting the great outdoors would help him relieve some stress from an upcoming physics exam. 

When they first met, Brian and Tim were inseparable. The two started a band together; Tim played bass and Brian played on his beloved homemade guitar, the Red Special. They called themselves Smile, but as Tim said, the band wasn't really going anywhere.

Brian and Tim hadn't seen each other in person for a whole semester after Tim moved to Hompy Bong Village to pursue a career in studio animation and to take care of his aging aunt. Hompy Bong was located in east Leicestershire and right in the center of the middle of nowhere with trees and meadows swallowing the village in a medieval paradise. It had a small-town charm with its everybody knows everybody atmosphere and a thriving rumor mill never short of drama. 

Tim practically begged for Brian to come and visit him. 

"It'll do you some good to get some fresh air and away from the busy city," Tim told him over the phone.

"I know," Brian replied.

"You know? Why don't you come down for a long weekend to get you away from some of that stress before your exam?" Tim offered. 

Brian sighed. "Okay," he said, "I'll come up." 

———∞◊∞———

"You've got to reel it in quick as soon as the bobber goes down otherwise you won't catch the fish!" Tim shouted at Brian for what felt like the millionth time. 

"Interesting," Brian mumbled in response. He hated fishing and felt terrible about using hooks on the poor fish, so he just opted to let the fish nibble on the bait.

Brian slowly reeled in the hook to put more food on it for his little aquatic friends. Besides Tim's occasional frustrated swearing, the scene on the lake was peaceful. The trees on the other side reflected brilliantly with the clear sky on the surface of the water. A curious turtle swam up to the pair earlier in the day (they named it Robert after Robert Plant,) and a crane swooped down in the middle of the lake to hunt a school of fish. Brain inhaled the crisp wooded air and relaxed. 

There was a clamour beside him and Tim yelled, "Oi! Get the net, get the net!"

Brian scrambled to his feet and grabbed the fishing net. Tim reeled in a small pike, just over a foot-long. 

"What a beauty!" Tim marveled as he placed the fish in the net, "He's gonna grow up big someday, I just know it!" 

Brian winced at the sight of the fish gasping for air in the net with a painful hook sticking out of its lip. 

Tim saw Brian's anguished expression and sighed. "Alright, let's get this lad back in the water and release him," Tim said. 

"May I?" Brian asked. Releasing the fish was his favorite part of Tim catching something.

Tim nodded and Brian gently removed the hook from the fish's mouth. 

"Don't worry, little one. You're gonna be okay now," Brian whispered as he lowered the fishing net back into the lake. The pike swam off and Brian smiled.

Tim packed up his fishing gear and said, "We should get dinner started."

The two walked back to their humble camp set up. A lonely tent, a scorched fire pit, and a pair of coolers greeted them. 

"What do you think we'll have tonight, hm?" Tim asked as he shuffled through the items in the coolers.

Brian laughed and replied, "Whatever it is, don't burn the pan this time!"

Tim pulled out a bag of potatoes and chuckled, "I don't even know how that was even possible. The laws of science broke last night and we were able to witness it. Shouldn't you know what happened, Mr. Astrophysics?" 

"The movement of planets doesn't really explain why two blokes can't cook without a disaster occurring without direct supervision of their mums," Brian responds with a smirk, "Besides, what are you making?"

Tim paused for a moment and shrugged. "I think we'll call it, 'Tim is making it up as he goes,'" he admitted. 

"Oh lord." 

"Oh lord indeed." 

Tim's mystery dish ended up being a filling meal of potatoes, potatoes, and a side of potatoes with a pinch of salt. (But no pans caught on fire, which Brian counted as a win.) They played card games by the campfire and watched as the stars slowly creeped out across the darkening sky. A full moon hung over them and illuminated the treetops. 

Suddenly, a shrill animalistic shriek echoed through the forest. The pair jumped to their feet. 

"What the hell was that?" Tim screamed. 

Brian gasped, "No idea."

The animal yelped loudly again and this time was followed by distant laughter. Brian immediately knew what was going on. 

He ran through the trees to the source of the animal's cry for help with Tim shouting behind him, "Brian! Brian, wait!" 

Brian spotted a group of teenagers lighting up something between two trees in the torchlight. He came closer and pushed one of the teens to the side. The group trapped a large dog— no, a wolf— in an old fox snare. The wolf's limbs were lanky and awkward like those of a young colt still growing into its legs. It was crouched low to the ground with its tail tucked and its ears flat against its head. 

Brian roars at the group, "What do you think you are doing, hm? That is a wild animal! You could kill it!" 

Tim joins behind Brian and announces, "Snares are illegal in Hompy Bong Forest!"

"We were just looking for a little fun out 'ere in the wood and found 'em caught. We didn't set it, honest!" one of the teenagers said. 

Brian could feel fumes coming out of his ears. "It doesn't matter. We need to get it out of the trap," Brian declared. 

A teenage girl said, "We can't get to close to it. It is too scared." 

"Yeah, and it snapped at Billy! Didn't get him, though. He moved too fast," one of the others added. A kids, who Brian guessed was Billy, shivered.

'He probably deserved it,' Brian thought, 'Now, what am I going to do to help this poor little guy?'

"Tim, take the stake out of the ground," Brian decided aloud, "I'll get the snare off of its neck."

Tim walked to where the snare's stake was poking out of the ground. "Are you sure, Brian?" Tim asked as he leaned down to pull up the stake. 

"Yes," Brian replied as he looked the trapped wolf. The wolf glared back at him with eyes full of fear. 

"Back up, everybody, back up!" Billy ordered his friends. 

Brian moved behind the wolf and into a position to take off the snare. Tim leaned over the stake and nodded. 

Tim pulled the stake up from the ground and Brian grabbed the snare. The wolf veered its head around and snarled at Brian. Brian's hands worked furiously to unclip the lock and loosen the snare as the wolf struggled. Brian's fingers slipped on the wire and his forearm fell near the wolf's head. The wolf yelped in terror and sank its teeth into Brian's arm. Brian howled in pain.

"Brian!" Tim shouted. 

Brian slid the snare off of the wolf's neck and the wolf limped away. It turned to look once more at Brian, Tim, and its captors before running off into the night. 

Tim dashed to Brian and saw him clutching his arm with his spare hand as red leaked between his fingers. 

"Oh my god, oh my god! We need to go to the hospital," Tim stammered. 

The teenagers helped Tim get Brian back to their campsite, and Tim shoved Brian into the passenger seat of his car. 

"What about your stuff?" Billy asked.

Tim started up his engine and replied, "It'll have to wait til morning."

Tim drove like a bat out of hell out of the camp car park and to the main road. He looked over to his friend crawling in misery beside him. Brian's face was dazed and confused but also twisted wild expression. He would mumble things and groan and shift uncomfortably in his seat getting blood all over the interior of the car. 

"Stay with me, Brian. We'll get you to the hospital in no time. You're gonna be okay," Tim comforted his friend. 

"Tim?" Brian asked. 

"Yeah, Brian?"

Brian quaked, "It's quite interesting, really. Wolves are supposed to be extinct in England."

And he fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The first chapter is out! 
> 
> 33 pages of planning are done for this story. I think that I am going to make it a trilogy because I have some other ideas that I want to play around with (and a cliff hanger!) 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you had fun reading it.
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments!


	3. [Roger wants Brian to come] Back [so that they can] Chat [Some More]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ready to meet Freddie and Roger? 
> 
> Brian goes to Freddie and Roger's clothing store to buy a new sweater.
> 
> Maybe some Maylor if you squint.
> 
> Later that night after closing, Roger finds something unusual behind the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

POV Switch to Roger

———∞◊∞———

Roger swept the floor of the clothing shop and Freddie helped a customer at the cash register. The bell rang on the door as they left. 

Freddie and Roger's used clothing shop was a hole in the wall in the middle of a London marketplace. It had brick walls on the inside and outside that allowed the cold air to creep in during the winter and the faint blowing breeze of the ceiling fans to escape during the summer. The shop was locally known for having striking and unique (some may say 'outlandish') pieces at an affordable price. Clothes were sorted by color rather than by style or by women's or men's, for the stockers knew that the line between women's and men's fashion was blurred. There was always a small bowl filled with water outside the front door of the shop for any thirsty stray cat that may stop by.

After hours, the used clothing shop was the ideal place for Roger to study because his neighbors were either too noisy with their unusual hoovering schedule or the university library too distracting with its deafening silence. The sound level at the shop after dark was perfect with the soft grumble of passing cars smoothly drowning out any chatter outside the shop's windows.

Roger snapped out of his trance when the bell rang and a new customer walked in. 

Freddie greeted them, "Welcome, darling! What can we do for you?" 

Roger peeked his head around a clothing rack to get a better look at the costumer. The customer was a tall man with wild curly dark brown hair that fell all the way down to his shoulders. Roger glanced over the man's outfit threadbare pants and his plain t-shirt topped off with dirty white clogs. The customer turned around and revealed a bandage wrapped from his hand to his elbow on his left arm. Roger winced. 

"Do you have any sweaters?" The man asked.

Freddie opened his mouth to respond but Roger beat him to it. "Yes, of course. Do you have a color in mind?" Roger asked. 

"Any, really. But I would prefer a black one if you have it," the man said, "I fell asleep in my favorite one last night and woke up to find it ripped to pieces this morning." 

Freddie coughed and Roger shot him a glare. "Right this way," Roger said as he pointed towards the back of the shop with his hand. 

The man walked to the back of the room and Roger kept a respectful distance from him to avoid making him feel claustrophobic. Freddie tapped a pen against the register to get Roger's attention. Roger turned around and Freddie nodded in the direction of the customer and wiggled his eyebrows. 

_Oh for fuck's sake, Freddie, not now!_ Roger thought. He scratched his forehead with his middle finger and hoped Freddie got the message.

A clothing hanger dropped to the ground and the customer mumbled to himself, "Oh dear."

Roger approached the man in the back and asked, "Do you need some help with that, sir?" 

He could feel Freddie facepalm from across the room.

The man chuckled and replied, "Yeah. My arm's being a bit of an arsehole when it comes to carrying things." 

Roger bent down and picked up the sweater. "What happened to your arm?" He asked. 

The man sighed. "I was on a camping trip with one of my old mates," he explained, "There was an animal caught in a snare trap and we freed it. The poor thing bit me in the process. My friend had to drive me halfway across the county to get me to a doctor." 

Roger blinked for a moment. _Poor bloke. What kind of animal bit him?_ Roger wondered. 

"You poor thing! Are you doing any better?" Freddie questioned from behind the counter. 

The man replied, "Yes, actually. I was only bit a couple of nights ago and the wound is healing nicely. My main problem has been making myself take a break from guitar so that my arm can rest."

Roger's ears pricked up. "Guitar? You play guitar?" he asked the man. Roger internally screamed with joy, _Oh, this is perfect! Freddie and I need a guitarist!_

"Yes. Do you play?" The man asked.

Roger straightened up his shoulders and replied, "I do actually, though drums are more of my thing. I like to do things along the lines of Mitch Mitchel and Ginger Baker, ya know, Cream and the Hendrix Experience." 

The man smiled and said, "Really? I'm a fan of the Hendrix Experience too. We should play together sometime."

"I can sing and play the piano!" Freddie announced, "Roger and I've been looking for a guitarist for some time now. We are thinking of starting a band." 

"Who?" The man asked.

Roger proudly extended his hand to the man, "I'm Roger Taylor. The sheep sounding one behind the register is Freddie Bulsara." 

The man shifted the sweaters he was holding onto his shoulder and shook Roger's hand. He introduced himself, "I'm Brian May. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Well dear," Freddie cooed from the register, "Let's see what you picked out, hm?"

Brian took his sweaters to the checkout. Roger tapped his foot humming along to a song as Freddie drew up the receipt. 

"We should meet up when your arm is better and play together," Freddie said as he logged the cost of the sweaters. 

Brian asked, "Sorry if it's so soon, but do you think Friday would work? I think my arm should be alright by then." 

Roger looked to Freddie and nodded. "That works for us," Freddie replied, "Maybe at one of our flats, we can meet up. Where do you live by?" 

"I go to Imperial for uni, so right near campus," Brian responds as he itches his chin. Roger couldn't help but widen his eyes at the sight of Brian's growing stubble. _I could've sworn he was clean-shaven when he walked in,_ Roger thought to himself, _Maybe I should get my eyes checked again._

"Oh! Of course. I sensed smarts when you walked in here. Do you know about Peach's Cafe?" Freddie asked. 

Brian nodded and said, "Yes, it is a few streets away from where I live."

"Wonderful," Roger interrupted, "We'll meet there on Friday for brunch at ten o'clock." 

Brian laughed and said, "Probably will see you before then here at the shop, anyways. I'm sure that I will find my trousers shredded in the morning." 

The three said goodbye, and Roger's eyes followed Brian as he walked out the door. 

———∞◊∞———

Freddie left the used clothing shop early to finish working on his art portfolio abandoning Roger to take care of the shop all by himself.

"What are you putting Hendrix in today?" Roger scoffed as he ran inventory on a new box of clothes, "Sixteenth-century court fashion with the collar like an angry lizard?" 

Freddie paused before he opened the door to leave. "You know, darling, that isn't a bad idea. I'll see you tomorrow!" he replied and marched out the door. 

Roger rolled his eyes and set the inventory log down on the box. "Bastard," he mumbled to himself. 

He crept to the front of the store careful to see whether Freddie forgot something and was coming back. He waited a few moments and turned the open sign to closed and thought, _least I can get some studying done a little early today, even if it means closing a little early._ Roger looked at the clock. _Okay, t_ _wo hours early._

He grabbed his biology textbook and a set of pens from a drawer in the register's counter. He went to the back corner of the shop to his favorite study place- an old dressing chair wedged between a closet and a dressing room. 

"And what are we teaching ourselves today?" Roger wondered aloud as he flipped through the pages of his biology textbook. "Oh yes, genetic mutation." 

He circled words he found important like insertion, deletion, and substitution. _These are definitely going to be on the test,_ he figured. 

Roger scanned the pages and scribbled notes down in a spare sheet of paper. "Bases are read in threes... hence the importance of deleting and substituting," he read aloud as he penned in his notes around old song lyric ideas. 

A loud knocking jolted him out of his studying trance. 

"We are closed!" Roger yelled from his secluded spot. The knocking continued. 

Roger slammed his textbook down and shouted, "Fuck off!"

The knocking stopped and Roger peered out of the shop windows and looked at the risen moon.

"Making people crazy tonight, are you?" he grumbled, "Damn. The whole country freaks out the moment the sky is actually clear." 

He picked up his textbook and turned back to the genetic mutation lesson. 

The next passage explained, ' _Genetic mutation is not willed by an organism; it is completely random. Furthermore, it cannot cause an organism to developed fantastical powers like the X-Men. (This could be done through magic, but that, of course, doesn't exist.)'_

Roger underlined the passage and scoffed, "Go figure. The textbook writers are trying to reach the youth with some humor." 

He grabbed his packed dinner, a ham sandwich, out of a paper bag, and took a bite.

A rubbish bin behind the shop tumbles over and rolls into the other side of the brick wall and sends a bang through the room. 

Roger puts his textbook down and growls, "Oh for Christ's sake!" 

He stomps to the back door with his ham sandwich in his hand ready to clock whoever thought they could get into the shop from behind. When he opened the door, Roger stopped in his tracks and gasped.

Roger stood frozen. _What the bloody hell is that?_ he internally screamed.

A large dog- no, a wolf- a large skinny wolf was digging through the fallen rubbish bin. The wolf jumped in place and raised its hackle. The animal's coat was dark and thick with little waves around its neck. Its amber glowing eyes darted between Roger and his sandwich and back again, and its mouth began to drool.

"Hungry?" Roger asked the animal. The wolf simply blinked at him. 

Roger looked at his dinner. "Well, ham sandwich, it was nice knowing ya," he whispered and tossed the food to the wolf. 

The wolf picked up the sandwich from the ground and wagged its tail as if it was saying, "Thank you!" 

Roger laughed, "Yeah, no problem. You need it more than me."

The wolf ran off into the night leaving a perplexed Roger standing next to a trashed rubbish bin with his stomach growling. 

"Freddie isn't going to believe this." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this an alright size for chapter updates? Of course, there will be chapters in the future that are shorter and longer than this one, but I can make some adjustments to make your reading experience better. 
> 
> Special thanks to the Amoeba Sisters on Youtube for teaching me things about genetic mutations that I should already know.


	4. It's a Hard Life [trying to find a guitar player that doesn't act like a crackhead]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger finds an unusual present for him on his front doorstep from Brian.
> 
> The trio's meeting at Peach's Cafe takes a mysterious turn when Brian asks Roger about his encounter with the wolf behind the clothing shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Roger woke up with a crick in his neck. He slept with one eye open the previous night with his head turned unnaturally toward his bedroom door. His irrational part of his sleepy mind was convinced that the wolf would find his home and more importantly, find him. 

He sauntered through his flat and was greeted in the kitchen with the sound of his neighbors arguing on the other side of their shared wall. Roger stared at the ceiling and rubbed his neck. Knots in his hair caught up in his fingers as he slid his hands to his face. 

The sunlight trickled in through closed curtains in the flat's small living room and threatened to crawl into Roger's unlit cave of a kitchen. His neighbor's shouts were drowned out by the sound of another hoovering. The faucet rhythmically dripped into the sink and a dirty kettle scowled at him from the stove. A dog barked outside.

Roger shuddered at the thought of the wolf with the glowing eyes that he encountered the previous night. He wanted to hide away in his cupboard and not come out until he was sure that it was out of town for good. 

Suddenly, his letterbox creaked open and a small package slipped inside. 

Roger walked over and picked it up. Attached to the package was a note written in messy handwriting that read:

_"Thank you for everything yesterday! For some reason, I just felt like dropping this off for you to return the favour. Hope you like ham. I am a vegetarian, so I apologize if anything is wrong. -Bri."_

Roger furrowed his eyebrows. _That's strange,_ he thought. He unraveled the packaging and stared at the ham sandwich. 

He chuckled to himself, "No way." The sandwich in the package that Brian gave him looked identical to the one he gave the wolf. He took a bite. _Yep, same one!_ he thought. He took another bite. He mentally corrected, _Nope. This is better._

After he finished his sandwich, he called Freddie. 

"Hello?" his friend answered on the other end.

Roger greeted, "Morning, Fred. I've got a great story to tell. You won't believe it!"

Freddie sighed and the line crackled as Freddie stretched the phone cord. "Like what? The absolute mess that some bugger behind the back door at work?" Freddie asked. 

"That's the thing," Roger told him, "That bugger was a wolf!"

Freddie's faint laughter filled Roger's ears. Freddie said, "Roger, darling, there are no wolves in London Town, or in Britain for that matter. You probably saw a rather large stray dog or something just looking for a bite to eat in the rubbish bin." 

"I swear it was a wolf, Freddie. It was truly massive and had glowing fire eyes," Roger insisted.

"A giant dog with an eye infection, then," Freddie guessed, "And what came of this dog? It didn't attack you, did it?" 

Roger looked at the note and empty package on his countertop. "No," he said, "I packed a ham sandwich for dinner and gave it that to eat. Then the strangest thing happened this morning."

"Go on," Freddie coaxed. Roger could practically feel Freddie twirling the phone cord between his fingers like a smitten schoolgirl. 

"Brian the guitarist dropped of a ham sandwich to my flat this morning," Roger said.

Freddie giggled, "Did he now?" 

Roger groaned and said, "The thing is, I don't even remember telling him where I lived. The sandwich was great, I'll give him that, but it's just weird." 

"Psh!" Freddie responded, "I'm sure we mentioned it when we were talking about a place to meet up at on Friday." 

"Yeah," Roger sighed, "I'm sure that's what it is." 

———∞◊∞———

The week went by and Roger eagerly awaited in vain for Brian to come back to the clothing shop. When Friday arrived, Roger practically skipped to Peach's Cafe. 

Freddie was waiting for him at an outside table and greeted him with open arms. 

"Roger!" Freddie called to him from his seat. 

Roger plopped down in the chair across from his friend. "Brian stumble his way in yet?" Roger asked him. 

Freddie smirked. "I see where your priorities lie," he teased, "Sandwich boy hasn't shown up just yet."

Roger leaned back and stretched his arms. He said, "Not now, Fred."

They waited, waited, and waited some more, but Brian did not come. 

Freddie lit a cigarette and said, "I'm beginning to think we've been stood up." 

"I'm ordering something to eat anyways," Roger decided.

Freddie asked as he took a drag from his cigarette, "Order me something?"

Roger got up from his seat. "Sure. What do you want?" Roger asked.

Freddie exhaled a cloud of smoke. "I dunno. Whatever you'll have I'll have," he replied.

Roger rolled his eyes and walked into the cafe. He looked at the menu written on a chalkboard on the back wall of the cafe. 

When it was his turn, a cute redhead lady with a nametag that read "SALLY J" took his order. 

"And what would you like today, love?" she asked him without looking up from the register. Roger glanced at the menu on the back wall once more to make sure he said the correct thing.

"Two sausage and cheese scones, please," Roger replied, "And two coffees."

The worker jumped in her place. She stared at Roger for a moment and straightened out her uniform blouse. "Oh!" she laughed, "I thought you were a woman like myself." 

Roger's face blushed and he scratched the top of his head. He pondered, _Oh g_ _od, does this have to happen every time I go someplace new? Wonder just how many times I've heard that._

"Oh, no. It's fine," Roger consoled the lady, "It happens all the time." 

Sally J ignored him and said, "The total will be £2.5. The scones should be out in just a moment."

Roger cocked an eyebrow and gave the woman the charge. As soon as it was ready, he gathered his and Freddie's food and drink and went back out the door to where Freddie was waiting for him. Roger set down his things and sat down. 

As they took the first bites of their sausage and cheese scones, Freddie looked over Roger's shoulder and his eyes widened. 

"What?" Roger said with food threatening to escape his mouth. He swallowed quickly and turned around. 

Brian was walking up to them from the street. He looked exhausted like he hadn't gotten a good night's rest since they met earlier that week with bags under his eyes and messy hair that was flattened on one side. He wore one of the black sweaters he bought from Roger and Freddie's store that contrasted against his white clogs. Most importantly, his bandage was gone and revealed perfectly healed skin underneath. Brian made eye contact with Roger and his wild expression sent a shiver down Roger's spine. 

Freddie stood up from his chair and yelled, "Well, it's about time you showed up, mister Brian May! We were beginning to think you weren't coming at all!"

"I am so sorry that I was late," Brian said as he pulled up a chair.

Freddie asked, "Well, dear, do you need anything to eat?" 

"Just a coffee, please," Brian replied, "Thank you, Fred."

Freddie got up and winked at Roger right before he opened the door to the cafe. 

Brian cleared his throat. "Did you get your sandwich?" he asked. 

Roger smiled and responded, "Yes, I did. Thanks." 

Brian revealed a soft and tired grin. "No problem," he said barely above a whisper. Roger looked down and saw Brian's hands trembling on the table.

Roger furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you alright, Brian?" he asked. Brian simply nodded in response.

Roger gestured to Brian's hands and said, "Might need something with less caffeine if you are going to play the guitar soundly."

Brian looked at his hands and chuckled. "I haven't slept well the past few nights. Bloody weird dreams, waking up in places I didn't fall asleep. It's probably just my mind trying to process the camping trip, but it makes me a little wary to fall asleep," he admitted.

"You sure you don't have rabies or something?" Roger joked.

Brian tilted his head. Roger heard a creak from behind him and turned around to see Freddie opening the cafe door with a coffee in hand. Brian sniffed the air and smiled. 

"A cup of coffee with one sugar. Perfect!" Brian beamed. 

Freddie placed the cup down in from of him and sat down. "How did you know?" he asked, "I completely forgot to ask you how you liked it and guessed." 

Brian gulped down his coffee and shrugged. He set down the cup on the table completely drained. "I don't know. I could smell it," he replied. 

Roger and Freddie blinked. Roger thought, _Smell? What does he got, a super sniffer?_ Brian looked between them confused. 

"What?" he asked. 

Roger responded after a moment, "Nothing." 

Freddie took a sip of his coffee and turned to Brian. "Did Roger tell you his story about the stray dog behind the shop yet?" he asked.

Brian looked at Roger quizzically. "No, he did not," he responded with another head tilt.

Freddie sat up tall in his seat and dictated, "Well, on the night of the day you came into our shop, Roger found a giant stray dog that he says looked like a wolf." 

"I startled the poor thing and gave it my ham sandwich," Roger added, "Then it just wagged its tail and trotted off into the night. I haven't seen it since." 

Brian leaned forwards and furrowed his eyebrows. "Where did you see it?" he asked.

"Right out behind our shop. It was digging through the rubbish bins," Roger answered.

Brian mumbled something under his breath. He raised his eyebrows and glanced down at his watch. "Oh! Would you look at the time! I need, I need to be somewhere in a quarter of an hour. I best be on my way," he stammered. 

"Where to?" Roger asked out of curiosity. 

Brian stood up and ignored him. "Ah yes," he said as he placed a fiver down on the table, "This should cover everything. I'm so, so, so sorry for having to call our little meeting short. I just remember something important that I have to do." 

"Would next meeting work at my place?" Freddie asked. 

"Oh, yes. That would do," Brian replied absentmindedly as he collected his things. He paused for a second and then asked, "Wait. Where do you live?"

"The green flat complex called Foster's Place a few blocks east from here. I'm on the ground floor," Freddie told him. 

Roger asked, "When exactly is our next meeting?"

Freddie bobbed his head back and forth as he thought. "Tuesday, it will be on Tuesday at noon," he decided.

"Great, wonderful. See you then!" Brian said and crossed the street and jogged on the sidewalk with his fluffy hair dancing in the wind.

Freddie said as he and Roger watched Brian run down the street, "What an interesting bloke."

Roger sighed and said, "Yeah. I just hope he plays as well as he runs in those clogs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just kinda flinging out chapters left and right because I am going out of town soon. I hope that you are enjoying the story. 
> 
> I tried to get the prices right for Roger and Freddie's brunch, but I'm unfamiliar with quid value in 1970 and how it translates to modern prices. (I can't wrap my brain around the inflation! It's actually making my head hurt.) 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone leaving kudos and comments!


	5. [Brian walked away from some] Good Company [to get some answers]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian does some research on wolves in England.
> 
> He comes across something that intrigues him more than the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

POV Switch to Brian

———∞◊∞———

Brian sat on the couch in his flat with his head resting on his knees. A ticking clock taunted him with the sound of seconds passing by that he could have spent starting a band. The first unofficial meeting was a disaster and it was all his fault. First, he was late, and then he had to leave early with no good reason. _Something you remembered? You are lucky to have been given a second chance. What an opportunity you could've just thrown away, young man,_ Brian internally cursed with a voice eerily similar to his father's. The truth is, he did remember something. It was like a forgotten thought begging to be uncovered in the back of his mind, and Roger's wolf story seemed to have awakened it. 

Brian got up and paced around the room. 

_How could we have both seen a wolf within days of each other? Surely this isn't a coincidence,_ he thought, _Once in Hompy Bong Forest and once in London._

Brian walked over to a window and spread the curtains. Light poured into the room.

"Something isn't right. There is something I am missing," he said aloud as he stared aimlessly out the window. 

_Why would a large predator want to be in London?_ he wondered, _There is not enough food and suitable habitat to support such a creature. Better yet, why has no one seen it again?_

He sat down at his desk and rummaged through the drawers. 

"Aha!" he exclaimed when he found what he was looking for: a map of the British Isles.

He studied the map and put one finger on Leicester and another on London. 

"Two places a hundred miles apart," he said, "And only a couple days to travel between them." 

He scratched the back of his head as he thought. "Two wolves," he concluded, "Even if one or both of the animals were indeed an overgrown dog, they were both different animals in different places. But, I know what wolves look like, and certainly what I saw was in fact a wolf." 

Brian tapped the places on the map. "But how could that be?" he wondered aloud, "Could wolves have been covertly reintroduced to Britain?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how stupid they sounded. _Ha! A conspiracy theory. Wonderful._

The gears in his brain turned again and he thought, _Okay_ , _but what if wolves made a comeback after 300 years of extinction?_

He shook his head and internally replied, _But that wouldn't be possible. It's simply ridiculous._

Brian remembered Roger's story about his encounter with the wolf. "'...ham sandwich,'" he quoted, "'Out behind our shop... digging through the rubbish bins..."

Suddenly, Brian got a pounding headache that radiated from the inside out. He groaned in pain and clawed at his skull as he tried to relieve it in vain. He fell from his chair to the floor and rolled around. in agony. The light from the window and the sound of the clock became too much for him. He slammed his eyes shut and brought his hands up to cover his ears. A single tear slid down his cheek. 

When he opened his eyes again, it was dark outside. He was crawling close to the ground in an alleyway lost. Brian crinkled his nose at the smell of the rubbish around him and heard himself whimper. To his side, he heard a door creak open and light-filled the alleyway. Roger stood in the doorway with a sandwich in his hand.

_Roger?_ he thought. He tried to say something, but he was frozen in time. 

Roger mumbled something and threw his sandwich to Brian. Brian felt himself lean down and pick up the sandwich. He took a bite and relished in the flavour. Then it hit him. 

_Ham? Meat? No no no no!_ he internally screamed. He could taste eating the meat as he watched himself leave Roger alone in the doorway. An overwhelming sense of nausea overcame Brian and he gagged. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, he was back in his flat on the floor in the fetal position. 

"What the hell?" he said under his breath. The taste of ham crept back into his mouth and the sense of nausea returned. 

"Oh no," he mumbled. He got up and sprinted to the bathroom just in time for him to vomit into the toilet. He tried to rationalize what he saw. _Roger? The alleyway? The ham sandwich?_ He gagged again just thinking about it. _What was in the coffee at Peach's?_

It felt like he just remembered a dream except he had never recalled his dreams so vividly. Brian stumbled back to the couch and looked up at the clock. The time was approaching half-past four o'clock. 

"Oh fuck," he cursed. He took a five-hour nap long on the floor in the middle of his flat. _This is going to mess up my already irregular sleep schedule,_ he thought. 

"Guess I should do something useful with my time since I'm probably not going to sleep tonight," he said as he grabbed his things, "I know just where I could get some answers." 

Brian marched out of his flat and towards Lyon Playfair Library. _Surely there is at least one book there that can help me or at least point me in the right direction._

He settled on checking out a book titled _The History of Wolves in Britain,_ and if Brian knew anything about old books its was this: they either have archaic knowledge or a tiny crucial detail center to a whole mystery. 

When he got back to his flat, he turned on the lamp on his desk to give him more light on the yellow pages of the old tome. He read chapter after chapter and learned nothing that could help him. Just before he gave up, he looked over the table of contents to see if there was anything he could skip to in later chapters.

"Chapter 39, the Legend of the Werewolf," he read aloud. He thought, _Sounds interesting. Might as well give it a go._

He turned to the first page of the chapter and read,

> _There are multiple interpretations of the Werewolf across multiple different cultures and most religions have a tale of a shapeshifter. According to the self proclaimed Werewolf Hunters of old, there was once was a species of Werewolves known as the Lycans from which the modern Werewolf descends. They were a benevolent kind that sought to protect man (Compare with the Irish Interpretation of the Werewolf on Page 197.) However, the Story of the Lycan has been largely replaced by the Story of Their Modern Descendents, the Werewolf. Here we shall discuss the Modern concept of the Werewolf._
> 
> _As one may expect, the Werewolf Curse is passed on by an Infected Individual through a Bite or Their Saliva..._

Brian tilted his head. _Lycans? Never heard of them,_ he thought. He continued to read, but as time went on, he had difficulty concentrating, a little question danced around his head and no matter what he did to push it back or drown it out, it kept slithering back. _What if I am one of them?_

Brian flipped to the next page and cringed. Staring at him from the pages were images of a man turning into a monster. 

"Below shows the described shift from man to beast," Brian read aloud. 

The man in the drawing was crudely drawn. It showed him normal at first, dressed in Victorian fashion with a top hat and a cane, then as the shift began the man's face twist and his clothing shred. The final stage depicted the man with large fangs, crazy eyes, claws, howling up at the moon. Brian's eyes widened as the little question kept coming back. _What if I'm one of them? What if I'm one of them? What if I'm one of them?_

Brian was even more appalled by the next drawing. The werewolf from the first drawing was depicted surrounded by carnage. By its feet laid the dead body of a young man with his chest ripped open and bloody, and in the beast's arms, a woman screaming in horror as the werewolf's claws dug into her skin and its fangs sink down into her flesh. Others yell at the animal from afar, helpless to save the woman from her fate. _What if I'm one of them?_

Brian slammed the book shut and rubbed his eyes. He said, "Too much _._ My mind isn't thinking clearly. I was bitten by a wolf, not a man with fangs and claws. There is nothing to worry about." 

He got up from his desk and noticed that the sun was near done setting. He knew that he should get ready for bed, even if it meant that he'd lay awake waiting for sleep to come. He felt overwhelmingly compelled to go outside as he watched the sky darken. He thought about the fresh wooded air of Hompy Bong and his shoulders relaxed.

_Outside, outside. Not cramped up, but free outside,_ he thought, _A walk maybe. I need to go somewhere to clear my head. Somewhere green, yes. And open. With trees too._

Brian shook his head and closed the curtains. _What am I thinking?_ he asked himself, _I need to go to bed. I'm bit going to the park or on any walk tonight._

Such thoughts had been plaguing him since he got back to London. He truly tasted the wild for the first time in his life when he was camping with Tim, and now his body is craving more. At the beginning of the week, he had gone on such walks to clear his head. Then he would blackout and wake up wherever his feet led him, but most embarrassingly, he would wake up nude and have to find some of his torn clothes and run back to his flat. These actions were mindless and he often zoned in and out, coming back to at random times when he saw a bright light or heard something loud. The intense mental fog in the morning would eventually fade an hour later and leave Brian trying to figure out how exactly he got home in such a drunken state.

As he put on his pajamas and crawled into bed, Brian made a mental note to go back to the library and check out more books on werewolves. He felt himself start to drift off and right before sleep overtook him, he heard himself _growl_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heys guys! Another chapter- 
> 
> I was in the middle of writing the beginning of this and suddenly it was deleted. The original opening was much better, so I am a little pissed. 
> 
> Predictions are welcome :) (I won't address them when I respond to your comments. I am just curious to see what everyone is thinking) 
> 
> (Just as a side note, when I write my stories I 'watch them' and then write down what I see, so there might be instances in which I am missing some description or the pace is too fast. Please let me know so that I can edit!)


	6. [Freddie decides to make a band and that they're gonna] Rock It (Prime Jive)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our little band has a jam session at Freddie's.
> 
> Roger has some crazy stories about his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

POV Switch to Freddie

———∞◊∞———

The clock struck 12:00 and Freddie did one final sweep of his flat. He had to make sure that everything was perfect. He scribbled down any lyrics that came to mind, cleaned his entire flat, and even gave his two precious kitties, Tom and Jerry, a bath in preparation for his band's first official jam session. He even warned his neighbors!

He sat expectantly by the front door with his cats on either side of him. Tom rubbed up against Freddie's leg and Jerry hopped onto his lap.

Freddie's ears pricked up when he heard the familiar sound of Roger's car's engine sputter to a halt.

"He's here. It's started. Be on your best behavior, my lovies," Freddie purred to his cats as he gave them a final stroke. He gently set Jerry back down onto the floor and cursed at Roger's timing. 

Freddie walked out the door and Roger popped open the boot of his car revealing a neatly stacked dismantled drum kit. 

"Good afternoon, Roger," Freddie greeted, "How can I help you bring some of this in, hm?" 

Roger grabbed the snare drum and said, "This car is the love of my life. If you scratch it, I will kill you." 

Freddie grabbed the high hat and scoffed, "Nice to see you too." 

"'Nice to see you too,'" Roger mocked in a high pitched voice. He kicked Freddie in the ankle. 

_ How dare he? _ Freddie thought. He poked Roger with his elbow. Roger shot him a glare and set down the snare. 

"What was that for?" He asked as he put his hands on his hips.

Freddie replied, "You're being a prick."

"How can I help?" asked a familiar voice behind them.

Freddie turned around and saw their new guitarist. Unlike the first meeting, he was put together and sound. He was well-rested and alert instead of tired and inattentive. He wore a striped shirt and his once dirty clogs were scrubbed clean. He clearly made an attempt to style his hair, though it was still a curly mess. His look was topped off with a toothy grin that hinted at some long lost dimple on his cheek.  Freddie couldn't help but think, _How cute._

"Hello, Brian. Good afternoon. Nice to see you," Freddie said, drawing out the last bits so that Roger could hear his passive aggression. 

Roger picked up the snare drum and said, "If you could get the two toms there, that would be great." 

Brian grabbed the two drums and asked, "Are doing alright, Roger?" 

"Girl problems, mate," Roger responded as he walked to the door, "Don't want to talk about it." 

_ Girl problems? With who? I thought he wasn't dating anyone,  _ Freddie thought, _Though that doesn't exactly mean_ Roger _doesn't have any love life issues._

Brian and Freddie carried in the majority of the drum kit as Roger assembled and tuned it inside. 

"Surely that is heavy, darling. Would you like some help?" Freddie asked as Brian carried the drum stands. 

Brian shook his head and declined. "Oh, well, they are just cumbersome, not necessarily heavy by any means," he said. 

Freddie cocked an eyebrow and held the front door open for the guitarist. _Alright, then,_ he thought. He followed the guitarist inside. 

Roger didn't acknowledge his bandmates entering the room and silently swore as he set up his drums.

Brian furrows his eyebrows and looked at Freddie. 

Freddie shrugged and said, "I don't know a thing about these drums. I just know that some of them go 'shm dmm tsh' and another goes 'dadadadada psh' or something of that sort. It's really not my specialty, darling."

Roger chuckled from behind his drums and added, "Not to mention the last time I let him play on them for fun he broke one of the cymbals." 

"Ah, yes," Freddie laughed, "That one makes a crash sound." 

Roger assured, "Anything makes a crash sound when it shatters." 

Brian's eyes darted worriedly around the room. 

_Oh, dear. We have scared him,_ Freddie thought as he rubbed his temple. 

Brian set his guitar case on the floor and pulled out a beautiful red electric guitar unlike any guitar that Freddie had ever seen.

"Woah," Roger and Freddie awed in unison. 

"We couldn't afford the guitar I wanted when I was a teenager, so my dad and I made our own," Brian explained as he tuned his guitar.

"What's it called?" Roger asked. 

Brian replied, "The Red Special. Or the Fireplace because the neck was made out of a hundred-something-year-old fireplace mantle."

"That's wicked," Roger said as he leaned forwards to get a better look.

Freddie clapped his hands together. "Are we going to play together or what?" He asked, "I'm hanging on the end of my seat!"

The three of them played well together. Brian's unique guitar sound complimented Roger's drums and Freddie's striking and adaptable voice. Occasionally, Brian and Roger would join in with Freddie in the chorus and they would harmonize together with Roger up high, Freddie in the middle, and Brian down low. 

_Oh, this is coming together perfectly!_ Freddie thought to himself. 

Freddie played away at his piano and Brian would match the notes on his guitar in an aggressive yet brilliant style. 

"Didn't take you for a rocker," Freddie commented. Brian simply smiled in return.

Freddie turned his head from time to time to check on his blond friend behind the drums. They would make eye-contact and wink at each other, but more commonly Freddie caught Roger stealing glimpses at Brian who played blissfully unaware across from him.

Freddie suddenly stood up from his piano and declared, "We should start a band! A real one. And go to places and play for people!"

"What?" Roger asked though he couldn't hide a little hopeful smile that crept across his face.

"I'm being serious," Freddie replied with his hands on his hips. 

Brian raised his hand. "I'm down. I would love to be in a band with you guys," he said. 

Roger added, "We'd be rockstars!" 

Freddie shook his head and strode into the middle of the room. "Not rockstars, legends. We'd be legends," he decided, "Or at least, I would be a legend." 

The three laughed. 

"I don't know about you lot, but I am ready for some tea," Freddie said. Roger jolted up from his chair and marched into the kitchen.

"I thought you'd never ask," he called over his shoulder. 

Roger, Freddie, and Brian sat around Freddie's kitchen table with tea in hand and a box of crackers laid out in the middle of them. 

Freddie put his cup down and asked, "So Brian, did you ever hear any news about the dog, or wolf, that bit you when you were on the camping trip with Tam?"

"Tim," Roger corrected.

"No, I did not. I heard that the village found a wild boar in the forest, but not the dog," Brian responded, "In the meantime, I've been doing some research on wolves in England to see if I could get any answers." 

Roger encouraged, "And?" 

"And," Brian continued, "I've come up with absolutely nothing. I've even tried finding things about the wolf that Roger saw, but I still ran into dead ends. All that I've really done is read old books about possible wolf and werewolf sightings." 

_Werewolves? Really?_ Freddie thought. "Do you think that you are a werewolf or something?" Freddie asked. 

Brian laughed, shifted in his seat, and said, "No, no. That would be absolutely ridiculous." Brian's eyes flew around the room and landed on his tea. He took another sip and continued to stare downwards.

Freddie wondered, _Then why do you look so uncertain?_ The three sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute.

"Well, my granduncle used to say that he hunted werewolves and that they were going to come and kill us all," Roger spat out.

Freddie and Brian looked at him with their mouths agape. 

"Was he on something?" Brian asked.

Freddie giggled and joked, "Better yet, dear, where can I get some?"

Roger responded, "We can't say definitively that he wasn't on something. He was a heavy drinker according to my mum, but I've met plenty of those and none of them live up to the story of him. We found a ton of illegal and bizarre weapons in his basement when he died. Someone broke into his house and stole all of it before we could get rid of it." 

Freddie's eyes widened. "How old were you when he died?" he asked.

Roger shrugged and took a sip of his tea. "Around ten-years-old, methinks," he replied.

Brian asked, "Was he in a gang? Like the Mafia?"

"Bet it was a drug cartel," Freddie snorted. 

Roger sighed, "I'm not joking. He was weird as hell. And according to my mum, so were his hunting mates." 

Freddie argued, "Roger, your whole family is weird. I've met them." He shuddered at the memory of Roger's perverted grandma that wouldn't stop hitting on him and his little cousin that ate mud outside with a spoon. _Even worse,_ he remembered, _his crazy aunt that came back from Thailand that knew way too much about assembling a pipe bomb._

Brian asked, "Roger, did your granduncle ever tell you any stories?"

"Not directly," he answered, "but his grandkids, my cousins, used to say that the full moon makes werewolves go crazy." 

Freddie saw Brian tense at the mention of the full moon.

Roger continued, "They also said that werewolves could only be killed with a silver knife or silver bullet to the heart." 

Brian nodded and said, "That is what I found in the books." 

_Nerd,_ Freddie couldn't help but think. 

"The big thing is, when I was little, I was told at family reunions and stuff that if I were a bad kid and went out after bedtime, a werewolf would come and get me," Roger concluded. 

Freddie laughed and said, "Sounds like they just desperately needed an excuse to keep you in bed." 

Brian faintly smiled. 

"Well, it scared the shit out of me. I guess it worked," Roger responded.

Brian leaned forwards and asked Roger, "Did you ever hear anything about Lycans?"

"Nope," Roger replied. 

"What about lih-sans?"

"No." 

"Lee-cans?" 

"Nada." 

_What's Brian getting at?_ Freddie wonders. 

"I'm tired," Roger announced, "I'm going to head back home." 

Brian and Freddie helped Roger pack up his drums in the boot of his precious car. Brian made sure that Freddie didn't touch the cymbals and grabbed them before which Freddie had a chance. The new band said goodbye to each other and Roger drives off. 

Freddie turned to Brian and said, "Maybe you should invest in some silver to protect yourself from the werewolves, eh?"

Brian chuckled and said, "No. I think that I'm good." 

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," Freddie replied.

As Brian walked back toward his flat to collect his guitar case, Freddie couldn't help but wonder how serious Brian actually was about werewolves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry that I was a little late getting this chapter out.
> 
> But hey- Freddie's POV! I hope that I didn't butcher it


	7. [Brian is] Long Away [from finding the answers he wants]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian continues his research on werewolves.
> 
> He later calls Tim and investigates the mysterious death of Matt Hoople.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

POV Switch to Brian

———∞◊∞———

Brian continued to study werewolf legends in his free time. If he wasn't going to classes, studying for his upcoming High-Energy Physics test, or playing with Roger and Freddie, he had his nose buried in a book with the face of a wolf on the cover. 

With his test approaching, Brian was struggling to balance out his stress levels. He hoped that going on a camping trip with Tim at Hompy Bong Forest would relieve some of that pressure, but then he got bit. Now he struggled to balance his priorities. _Do I study for my test and make my parents proud or do I read more fairytales?_ he asked himself. More often than not, the answer was indeed _read more fairytales._

Of course, these fairy tales, however entertaining and a good distraction, often led in circles. Brian constantly searched for more details on the elusive Lycan, but the only book to mention such a thing was the original tome he checked out from the college library. He did find some interesting and notable variations of the werewolf, however. For instance, the French and Cajun legend of the Rougarous caught his eye.

"A turn would be brought upon by not practicing Lent for seven years in a row," Brian read. _Oh great,_ he thought, _I don't even remember the last time I did Lent, if ever!_

When he finally exhausted the college library collection on wolves and werewolves, Brian's curiosity and his studying procrastination led him to read camping guide from Hompy Bong Forest that Tim sent him before their trip. He sat on his couch with a teacup in hand, and a Beatles record played softly in the background. 

Brian read the title aloud, "Mott Hoople and the Hompy Bong Village Mystery of 1966." 

He paused a moment. "Mott Hoople? Did they mean 'Matt' Hoople?" he wondered.

"Mott Hoople was found dead in Hompy Bong Forest on July 4th, 1966. His body was mauled by a wild animal, presumably a large dog or a wild boar. The cause of death was ruled an accident by investigators," Brian read. 

Brian thought, _And why didn't Tim mention this beforehand?_

"Partial prints of a giant wolf at the scene sparked a local legend of Hoople being killed by a werewolf," Brian continued, "but the killing of an aggressive boar later that month laid the village to rest."

Brian rubbed this temple. "Bloody hell," he cursed, "The biggest clue was right under my nose the whole time!"

He set the camping guide down and stood up. He trooped into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

_ Please don't kill me, dad, _ he prayed as he dialed Tim's number, _I know this is long distance, but I think it will be worth the bill._

The phone rang a moment and clicked when a person on the opposite end picked up.

"This is Tim Staffell," his friend greeted in monotone. 

"Tim? This is Brian," Brian replied.

"Brian?" Tim asked with a smile that could be heard, "How are you doing?"

Brian chuckled and said, "Doin' alright, Tim. The bite on my arm is completely healed. Can't believe I was bit only a little more than a week ago."

Tim's tone fell grave and he responded, "I thought- and I'm being honest here- that you would bleed out in my car on the way to the hospital. I'm so glad that you are all better." 

Brian cringed at Tim's past worry. _I hadn't even thought to put myself in his shoes,_ he thought, _he had to drive me all the way up to Leicester where there was a real hospital while I was passed out and bleeding in the passenger seat._ Brian replied, "Thank you, Tim. It didn't even leave a scar." 

"What a miracle!" Tim exclaimed. _Wow. He really was scared,_ Brian thought. To Brian, the whole experience of getting bitten was more of a foggy nightmare, but to Tim, it was a crystal clear real memory. 

Tim sighed on the other line and asked, "Okay, Brian. What is the real reason why you are calling?"

Brian was taken aback by Tim's frankness. "What?" He asked.

"Brian, I've known you for years," Tim said, "I know that even you aren't making this phone call to say you are all fine and dandy. You would've written. So, what do you want?"  


"Well, that was blunt. Wasn't it, Tim?" Brian retorted. 

Brian could feel Tim roll his eyes. "I know, I know. What do you need then?" Tim reattempted, "What can I help you with?" 

Brian looked back at the camping guide that laid on his couch. "What can you tell me about Matt, or Mott, Hoople?" He asked. 

"So you finally read the camping guide I gave you, huh?" Tim laughed, "Bloke was killed by what they think was a wild animal. Villagers thought it was werewolves, but a boar was shot later." 

"Anything else? Any rumors or anything that your Aunt told you?" Brian asked. 

"Lemme ask," Tim replied. Brian listened as Tim's muffled voice and the voice of an old woman spoke. He heard Tim ask "Is that so?" and "Are you sure?" countless times and the voice of the old woman grew sterner with every answer. 

"Okay, this is interesting," Tim said when he returned to the phone, "According to town gossip, there were actually reports of howling, as in wolf howling, the night he died."

The muffled sound of the old woman's voice filled the phone again.

Tim continued, "Apparently, police are said to have found not only one but two distinctly different wolf tracks at the scene _and_ human footprints belonging not to Matt Hoople but a young man. I guess that is where the village got the whole werewolf idea from."

"That's very interesting," Brian said as he scratched the back of his head, "And why did you fail to mention this to me before the trip?"

"You wouldn't have come. Besides, remember what you said, 'Wolves don't live in England,'" Tim responded, "Take it from me. This town is made up of a bunch of lunies. A werewolf murder story isn't too off-kilter from some of the other stories that I've been told here."

Brian laughed. "Alright, Tim. Thank you and goodbye," he said. 

"Bye, Bri," Tim replied and hung up the phone. 

Brian glanced at the ticking clock. _Hope we didn't take too long,_ Brian thought. 

He walked over to his desk and stared at the map of the British Isles that he left out. _From 1966 to now, one of the wolves that attacked Matt Hoople could've migrated down here,_ he decided. 

Brian tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. "But why would a wolf want to go to London?" he wondered aloud. 

He walked to his loo and looked into the mirror. He said as he moved his head from side to side, "That's good. Beard isn't growing back as fast as last week."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another information dump. And a short chapter.
> 
> Thank you ActualBlanketGoblin for some new lore ideas! (She's awesome and has a really unique Queen fic with bog bodies and ancient druid magic. Please go check that out!)
> 
> I feel like Tim is usually given a bad reputation in other fics, so I'm trying to keep him a good guy in this one.
> 
> And excluding the 'trailer' at the beginning, we are almost halfway done with the first installment in this series. Yay!


	8. ["I just did," said Freddie with a] Flick of the Wrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three have another jam session. 
> 
> Freddie invites him and Roger on Brian's camping trip.
> 
> (This one is a short one. Sorry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

POV Switch to Freddie

———∞◊∞———

In the following jam sessions, Freddie did not take as much care to make sure everything in his flat was perfect. He wrote down lyrics and tested out melodies on the piano, sure, but he failed to clean up or give his cats a bath. Roger's drum kit was semi-permanently assembled in Freddie's living room, and Brian's amp doubled as a footstool. 

He still sat expectantly by the door with his cats in their assumed position on either side of him as he awaited his friends.

He listened to Roger's car engine sputter to a halt outside. A few moments later, there was a knock at the front door. 

"Roger! Brian! Come in, come in," Freddie greeted when he opened the door. Roger had been picking up Brian from his flat before band rehearsals for the past week and a half even though it was out of his way on his drive to Freddie's. Freddie was glad that Roger had taken Brian under his wing, but he couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of jealousy. _Oh, how I want to have someone to adopt like Roger adopted Brian,_ he thought, _S_ _omebody to take under my wing._

Their jam session focused on Freddie's old song, Liar, though Freddie secretly wished that they would work on his so-called 'Cowboy Song.' Of course, a song embryo with only two lines that sounded more like a murder confession than a smash hit was quickly placed under the band's list of future projects. However, Freddie couldn't shake the feeling that his 'Cowboy Song' would someday rock the world. 

Roger's voice snapped Freddie out of his train of thought, "I don't know. It just feels like something is missing." 

"I agree. I feel like there should be something after the 'All Day Long' part to keep up the tension and momentum for the final chorus," Brian concurred. 

"Another guitar solo?" Roger suggested.

Freddie shook his head and replied, "Darlings, the first minute and a half are a guitar solo, not to mention the other segments sprinkled without. Don't get me wrong, it's a rock and roll song, but more guitar is not what we need." 

Brian blinked at him. "But wouldn't guitar do that? Keep the feeling where we want it?" he asked.

"We need something to build momentum and raise up the sound, not prolong the tension," Roger answered, "Then bring it back down for the final bit." 

"To bring it up from the bottom we need bass," Brian said. He and Roger turned to Freddie. 

"No, dears, not me. We all know that I can't fucking play bass," Freddie defended, "Or even guitar for that matter!"   


Freddie walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. 

Roger pounded his fist on his leg. "Damn," he mumbled. 

"We'll figure it out next rehearsal," Freddie decided from the kitchen, "We've got a couple more songs to sort through first." 

Brian sighed and said, "About that. I won't be able to make it to the next few rehearsals. I have a test that I need to study for and then right after that I'm going back to Hompy Bong." 

Freddie spat out his water. Roger stared at Brian in disbelief.

"Hompy Bong? I hope you're joking!" Roger yelled.

A sly smile crept across Freddie's lips. He had an idea. 

"You mean _we_ are going to Hompy Bong," Freddie corrected as he patted Brian's shoulder. 

Brian turned around and asked, "Sorry? We?" 

Freddie nodded his head and insisted, "Yes, we. Roger and I are coming with you." 

"'Roger and I?' You haven't talked this over with 'Roger' yet!'" Roger protested from behind his drums. 

Freddie laughed. "I just did," he said with a flick of the wrist, "Besides, I can't let Brian here go by himself to the place he got attacked by a mad dog. I would never forgive myself." 

Brian objected, "That's really not necessary. We only just met about a month ago—"

"I guess I'm packing Scrabble," Roger interrupted. 

Freddie clapped his hands together and said, "Wonderful! It is settled then. We'll leave right after your test. Oh, I haven't been on a camping trip before, dear. I am beyond excited for our little trip into the great outdoors!"

"Yeah, the great outdoors with an overgrown attack dog," Roger added under his breath. 

Freddie shot him a glare. _Really, Roger? Now is not the time for you to abandon your big hairy manchild,_ Freddie thought. 

Roger rolled his eyes and held up his hands in defeat. "I'm coming, I promise. Just know that I don't 100 percent approve!" he said.

Brian smiled. "Thank you, yet again. I'll ring you with the details as soon as I figure them out," he said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather short chapter, but a necessary one. I'll get the next one out soon! 
> 
> Buckle up your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen and others, Brian's first knowledgeable shift is coming soon!


	9. [Roger's driving almost gave everyone a] Sheer Heart Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys drive out to Hompy Bong Forest.
> 
> There is a heated Scrabble game.
> 
> And Brian wanders off in the woods...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.
> 
> Happy Fourth of July to those who celebrate it!

Switch to Roger's POV

———∞◊∞———

Roger was proud of his car, even if it wasn't the best car on the streets of London. To him, it was more than a car; it was home and freedom to go wherever he wanted whenever he wanted with whomever he pleased. He was in love with his car and the feeling of joy it gave him. 

He and Freddie parked outside Brian's flat and waited for him to come out. Roger kept the engine running and the radio on, expecting his new friend to be ready at the door to leave. 

"You sure this is the right place?" Freddie asked him from the passenger seat. Freddie wore a sun hat and a patterned blue Hawaiian shirt tucked into a pair of shorts.

Roger answered, "Yes, I'm sure. This is the exact spot I've been picking him up for the last couple of weeks. Are you sure that it is the right time?" 

Freddie raised his arm and looked at his watch. "'Three o'clock, don't be late, don't be drunk,'" Freddie quoted. 

Roger turned his key and turned off the car. The car made its characteristic sputtering sound. _Hopefully he heard that and got the message that we are here,_ Roger thought. 

A few seconds later, Brian stumbled out of his flat with a packed bag and cooler in hand. He stepped closer and Roger couldn't help but gasp, "Oh my god." 

Brian looked like he stood atop a train as it went through a tunnel. His hair looked like a badger tried to make its home in it, and his absent yet confused expression made him look like he just rolled out of bed after a deep sleep. 

Freddie let out a stifled giggle and Roger got out of the car to help Brian put his things in the boot.

"How was the test?" Roger asked. 

Brian muttered under his breath, "I feel like I just got hit by a truck."

"That bad, eh?" Roger laughed. 

"Yep," Brian replied as he shut the boot. 

_ Poor bloke's brain is cooked from the stupid physics exam, _ Roger thought. 

Brian climbed in the back seat of the car. 

Freddie turned around and greeted, "Good afternoon, poodle. I take it your test was a bitch?" 

Brian simply nodded in response and rested his head on the car window. 

Roger fired up his car and turned up the radio. "Have you got the map, Fred?" he asked.

Freddie shuffled through Roger's glove compartment and pulled out a neatly folded road map. "Yes," he replied as he flipped it around. 

Roger looked over and rolled his eyes. "It's upside down, Fred," he said.

Freddie flipped the map again and said, "That makes way more sense now." 

"If you're gonna be the navigator, you've got to know how to operate a map. Especially knowing which way is north," Roger scolded. _I am not going to be heading towards Leicester and then end up in Brighton,_ he thought. 

———∞◊∞———

The drive went relatively smoothly with only a few wrong turns that lead to a series of back roads and then eventually back to offshoots of the M1. 

"I said _left,_ Roger! Why are you doing right?" Freddie yelled. 

Roger snapped, "Because that bloody road is a dead-end! It says so on the sign right there!"

"Roger, it was the turn before the dead-end road. I may not know how to drive, but I can read perfectly fine," Freddie retorted. 

Brian groaned and shifted in his seat. 

"Are you alright, darling?" Freddie asked. 

Roger said, "Yeah. That's got to be the fifth time you've rolled around since the last stop." 

"Everything feels tight: my arms and legs," Brian responded, "I think that I feel motion sick." 

"We'll pull over at the next petrol station and stretch our legs," Roger decided. _Now, if only Freddie could direct us to one,_ he internally added. 

"There is one coming up on the right. Would you like me to remind you which side of the road that is?" Freddie asked. Roger ignored him and pulled in. 

At the petrol station, all three got out of the car to walk around. Brian leaned over a patch of grass and heaved like he was about to vomit. Roger walked over and patted his back. 

Brian coughed and replied, "Just motion sick. It's getting better now that I'm standing on solid ground."

"I'll go into the convenience store and get you a water," Roger said. 

Brian coughed again and said, "Thank you."

Roger walked into the convenience store and grabbed a few bottles of water. _Might as well get one for all of us,_ he thought. When he came back out to his car, Brian was waiting for him in the front passenger seat. 

"Where is Freddie?" Roger asked as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Roger jumped when Freddie's voice responded from the back seat, "I decided that I would sit in the back and Brian would sit in the front to give him more room and to help with his car sickness. Sitting in the front always helped my mum, so hopefully, it will help him." 

"Interesting," Roger said. Brian grinned faintly beside him. 

Just as they were about to pull out of the petrol station and back onto the road, a motorcycle blazed out in front of them.

"Cockhead!" Freddie cursed from the backseat. 

"Wanker," Roger added.

"And a piece shit," Freddie said. 

Brian laughed and said, "The only girl that will ever love him is his mother." 

"Ooo that is good!" Freddie purred and punched Brian's shoulder. Brian flinched and stared at him. 

Freddie's expression softened and he said, "Didn't mean to startle you, dear. My apologies." 

Brian stared at him for a moment with furrowed brows. "It's fine, Fred. I'm just jumpy," he said.

Roger sped up. "How much longer until we get there do you think, Bri?" He asked.

Brian looked at Freddie's map in the back seat and answered, "According to the map, we are between Milton Keynes and North Hampton, so about a little less than an hour left. We're making good time, so possibly even less than that."

"Oh, goodie," Freddie said, "Roger, keep on straight."

The rest of the drive went by quickly, which was largely due to Roger's mere acknowledgments of the speed limit signs and his aggressive honking.

Hompy Bong Forest was located right on the outskirts of Hompy Bong Village. Roger's car rolled over a gravel and dirt road to Brian's selected campsite.

"A little further down," Brian told him. Ever since they pulled into the trees, Brian's tiredness seemed to have disappeared. Roger was thankful that getting out to the middle of nowhere helped cure his friend of the after exam blues. 

"Here!" Brian shouted. Roger slammed on his breaks and the three of them lurched forward. Brian's arms shot out against the dashboard to brace for impact and Freddie came crashing into the seat in front of him.

Freddie fumed, "Warn someone before you send them flying into the seat in front of them, will you? I'd already taken off my seat belt and you decided to launch me to the moon!" 

Brian unclicked his seatbelt and said, "You two argue like an old married couple." 

The three get out of the car and start to unload things from the boot. They brought two tents, one for Roger and Freddie to share and one for Brian all to himself. They also brought two coolers full of food and beer along with tongs for cooking. The most important thing they brought was on top: Scrabble. 

The campground seemed ordinary to Roger. A tall ash tree loomed over him. _Ah yes, that is a good tree. A very fine tree,_ he thought to himself. The atmosphere was peaceful and there was a soft breeze that ruffled through the leaves. Roger even heard a few songbirds. _Maybe this isn't going to be so bad after all,_ he thought. 

Brian grabbed one of the coolers. The wind changed direction and Brian looked around with a wild and frightened look in his eyes. 

"You okay there, Bri?" Roger asked.

Brian set down the cooler next to Freddie who was reading a manual on how to set up the tents. He responded, "Yeah, I'm fine. Are you okay?" 

"Yeah. Just checking," Roger replied. 

Freddie struggled to weave the tent lines through the wire. "Can one of you please stop flirting and help me assemble the place we are going to sleep for the next couple of nights?" He asked.

Brian weaved the tent lines through the wire in one try. 

"Show off," Freddie mumbled under his breath. 

"So, are we all in agreement that we need a bass player?" Roger questioned from the opposite side of their camp.

"Yeah. It's just hard to find one that's good. Either their skill level isn't there or their personality is all around unpleasant," Brian said as he helped Freddie with the other tent. 

"Surely it can't be too hard to find somebody, anybody," Freddie insisted.

Brian asked his friend, "Freddie, have you ever sat through auditions before?"

Freddie shook his head. 

"Then you don't know," Brian concluded. 

It took the three of them about three-quarters of an hour to set everything up even though Roger was sure that it only should have taken up half the time. They created a firepit with a rock outline and Freddie and Roger were charged with the important duty of finding firewood while Brian pulled food out of the coolers to cook for dinner. When the fire was finally lit, it complemented the golden hour sky and light glows of pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows reflected off of the trees and their faces. 

"This is beautiful, dears," Freddie commented as he scribbled down a sketch of the sky in a notebook. 

Roger agreed, "I see why one would like it so much out here."

Brian suddenly froze and started sniffing the air. "I smell him," he said. 

Roger chuckled and asked, "Who? The unicorn of a bass player we're looking for?"

Brian looked down and shook his head. "No," he responded, "The wolf that bit me. I remember how it smelled. He was here."

 _He? You smell 'him?' The wolf?_ Roger silently asked. Freddie turned his head to Roger and gave him a weird look like he had just bit into a sour lemon. 

Brian smiled and looked up at his two friends. He said, "I know I sound crazy, I know. I think that it is my brain messing with me, being all in the same place where _it_ happened and all."

Freddie let out a nervous laugh. "Should Roger and I look for more firewood? I think a bigger fire will help cook the food faster, scare away any unwanted animals, and, most importantly, light the night for a Scrabble showdown!" 

Roger rolled his eyes. "I hate cooking," he grumbled to himself. 

Brian asked, "Why do you hate cooking, Roger?"

"Because last time Roger and I tried to make food by ourselves we set water on fire and he fried off one of his eyebrows," Freddie answered for him with a smirk. 

Roger's red face was illuminated by the growing fire. Brian pursed his lips and Roger could tell that he was trying not to laugh. 

"I-I don't even know how that is possible," Brian said as his voice choked up a little, "Setting water on fire? That, that sounds like a throw-away question from my test earlier today." 

_Oh great. Brian suppressing his laughter is impairing his ability to speak properly,_ Roger though as he rubbed the bridge of his nose in embarrassment. 

Despite his protests, Roger was charged by Brian to fend for himself for dinner. This resulted in his hotdog being a little too rare for his liking and his baked potato to be charred black like a lump of coal. Brian seemed happy with his vegetarian option of three can chili and he reached for seconds before Freddie and Roger even finished their firsts. 

"Christ, Brian. You are going to eat all of your packed food on the first night!" Freddie mock scolded. 

Brian opened his mouth to say sorry, but no audible words came out. 

Roger got the Scrabble box from his and Freddie's tent and set it up on a patch of flat clear ground. 

"Who's in?" He asked. _Not Freddie. He almost always beats me,_ Roger wished. 

Freddie stood up and declared with a gleeful smile, "Me!"

 _Damn it,_ Roger thought. 

"Me too," Brian said. 

The Scrabble game was heated, as Roger expected. Throughout the game, however, Brian grew visibly more out of it. His eyes seemed to be unable to focus on what thing at a time and Roger had to tell him multiple times that it was his turn to go. Most notably, though, was his insistence that 'thta' spelled 'that' or that 'who' was pronounced, 'hwah.' 

"I'm pretty sure you say it as 'who,' Brian," Freddie teased. 

"'Hwah.' It says, 'hwah.' Look," Brian said as he dragged his finger over the letters, "Hwah." 

Roger rolled his eyes and looked up at the full moon shining above them. "Oh, Brian," he muttered. 

Brian rolled his head down to get a better look at the word. "W-wait," he slurred, "That is 'who.' Myyy bad."

He shook his head violently and squinted back at the board. He scratched his head in confusion and mumbled something quietly to himself. 

"I think that I ought to go to bed considering, considering that I can't speak or play straight," Brian told his friends. He got up without saying goodbye and heading to his tent. Roger sighed. 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. He is just tired," Freddie said, "Now it's just you and me." 

"Oh, dear," Roger grumbled.

"Q, u, e, e, n. That spells queen. Fourteen points plus the extra points gives me... eighteen points!" Freddie said as he placed down his letters. He paused a moment and stared at the word.

Roger cocked an eyebrow and asked, "What is it?" 

"Queen, queen, queen," Freddie said aloud like he was testing out the word.

"I'm lost," Roger said. 

He continued, "Queen. I like it. It is outrageous, like me. Yes, I think it will be a suitable name."

"A suitable name for what?"

"Our band." 

Roger raised his eyebrows. _Queen. A simple yet very glamorous name,_ he thought. "I like it," Roger decided. 

"Good," Freddie said as he glanced over the score sheet, "Because I win." 

"What? We haven't even finished the game yet!" Roger protested. 

Freddie passed the score sheet over to Roger and said, "There is no way you can recover from that large of a gap, dear."

Roger stared at the scores and his eyes widened. "Fuck!" he cursed. 

"I think that it is time to pack the game up and call it a night. I'll put out the fire," Freddie said with a yawn. 

Roger scooped up all of the pieces and snapped up the board. He glanced at Freddie's remaining letters and found all consonants. _Bastard,_ Roger thought as he poured the pieces back into their container. 

Freddie sprinkled water over the fire and the flames sizzled into darkness. The moonlight lit the campground and Roger could see near perfectly. Before he climbed into his tent, Roger looked back at Brian's which sat alone and still. 

Roger whispered, "Goodnight, Brian." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehe not yet my lovies, but next chapter Brian will *really* learn that he is a werewolf. 
> 
> A Mulan and vine reference in this chapter? Maybe... (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Mh24z2zGmc)
> 
> Thank you again for the kudos and comments! (And the guests reading and giving kudos too! I highly appreciate your support!)


	10. [The Moon Has Now Become Brian's] White Queen (As It Began)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, this is the chapter in which Brian figures out he is for sure a werewolf.)
> 
> Unbeknownst to Freddie and Roger, Brian took a walk through the woods by himself to clear his foggy mind. 
> 
> He stepped out into the moonlight and a switch flipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Switch to Brian's POV

———∞◊∞———

Brian couldn't stand playing that game any longer. Usually, he would be glad to play Scrabble and be pretty good, but that day he was miserable and out of focus.

The whole day he had aches and pains and felt uncomfortable in his skin. His bones felt like the yearned to reach out of him. No matter how he sat or stretched, he was unable to ease the muscle tension that stiffened his movements. Brian was plagued with poor motor skills and was thankful that Roger would be driving later instead of him. He found it difficult to grab and hold things, especially when they called for him to use his thumbs. 

When he went to take his test, not only could he barely hold a pencil but also his senses were extremely strong. He could hear the inhales and exhales of everyone in the room and a student that sat diagonally a few seats behind him desperately needed to blow their nose. His classmates' pencils scratched and screeched across the paper, and Brian cringed at the sound of an eraser skidding across their tests. However, the most disturbing thing he could hear in the testing room was the heartbeats of those closest to him. He felt nauseated by the irregular and out of sync lub-dub sound that entrapped him at his desk.

All of this was nothing compared to the sudden influx of smells. He could smell everything from perfumes to the chalk on the chalkboard and even the individual distinct scents of his classmates. He could even smell their scents on each other such as one girl with the scent of her friend from a hug before the test and a boy with the scent of his roommate on his unwashed clothes. Most notably, the professor's wife's scent still lingered on his sweater-vest in such a way that Brian couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise. 

Most embarrassingly was Brian's decreasing ability to speak. He didn't want to admit it, but he struggled to talk even when the band left the petrol station about halfway through their drive up to Hompy Bong. Then, during Scrabble, he felt like his mouth refused to cooperate. It was like the line between his brain's commands to his extremities had been tampered with. 

Then there was his mental dullness and primitiveness. After the exam, he hovered over his grilled cheese and lettuce sandwich and even growled at unfamiliar people when they came too close. (One girl neighed back at him and he was too stunned to react.) When he first started to unload things from the boot of Roger's car at the campsite, he saw a squirrel and its alluring aroma urged him to chase it. Roger even noticed and asked Brian if he was alright. He wasn't alright; he was a vegetarian with a carnivorous urge to kill an innocent creature! And then, later on, he sincerely thought that 'who' was pronounced 'hwah.' _No one would ever guess that I was a Ph.D. student,_ Brian thought.

As Brian walked through Hompy Bong Forest by himself after the Scrabble game, he started to feel hot. Sweat started to accumulate on his brow, so he took off his shirt. He paused for a moment and looked around. _Pretty sure that camp is back that way,_ he thought when he turned behind himself for a moment, _I can find my way back later._ He stepped out into a clearing in the trees and his mental haze doubled. 

"Woah," he managed to gasp out loud. He stumbled forward a few steps and watched his arms put his shirt down on a fallen log. _I'll come back this way and get it,_ he told himself. Brian laughed a bit at his foggy state. 

He looked up at the sky and stared at the full moon that gazed down at him. A switch flipped. 

Brian dropped to his hands and knees. He fought for control over his body as he felt his power slip through his fingers like water. He threw up in his mouth at the feeling of his organs and bones shifting in a painful and unnerving fashion. His shoulder blades folded over and his ribcage stretched out. The skin on his hands melted away as massive black pads formed on his palms and fingertips. His gums throbbed as his teeth slowly rearranged themselves. He tried to crawl back the way he came and called for help, but his vocal chords failed him.

"Help! Freddie! Roger! Please help, something is wrong!" He whimpered. As he called out, his words became more and more distorted into doglike whining. 

He mustered his remaining strength and stood up. Brian shook his head violently and wailed, "Dad! Dad! Help! Mum? Dad? Anybody? Please!" 

He pounded his fist into the ground in exasperation and misery. _Why isn't anything working?_ he thought. He tried to yell out for help one last time but all that came out was a howl.

Brian collapsed to the ground with a thud. He tried to get up onto his two legs but couldn't. He looked up at the moon that hauntingly shined above him and thought, _What have you done?_

_ ———∞◊∞——— _

Throughout the night, Brian weaved in and out of conscientiousness and was never in complete control over his body.

He ran through the trees of Hompy Bong Forest on all fours testing out his newfound speed. He explored the open woods and walked numerous circles around his camp. He sniffed every tree and every bush. Everything seemed different in this new light. 

He grew frustrated at suddenly being much shorter than normal. He looked down at his feet and saw that giant wolf paws had replaced them. He yelped and tried to run away from them, but they followed him wherever he went.

He chased after a rabbit in a crazed hunt. Right before he caught it, Brian forced himself to trip out of fear that his out of control new body would kill the innocent animal. 

He scoured the forest and the campground for signs of the wolf that bit him. He found a fresh trail that led up to his camp but disappeared soon after. _I knew I smelled him earlier! I just missed him,_ he thought. He growled in frustration. 

After one last lap around Hompy Bong Forest, he trotted back to the campsite with the shirt he left in the clearing in his mouth. 

———∞◊∞———

Brian woke up freezing cold in his tent with his shirt draped over him like a tiny blanket. 

"What the hell?" he wondered aloud. He looked down at himself and his eyes widened in horror. _Shit! I'm naked!_ he internally screamed. He quickly grabbed the neatly folded pajamas that he set out for himself the previous night and slipped them on. 

Muted light from the dawn sky gently lit the air outside his tent. Brian moved to look outside but felt sore like he had just had run a marathon. He let out a little groan and stumbled out of his tent. He leaned over and put his hands on his knees and panted. Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He tilted his head and looked closer. 

A trail of large pawprints led to his tent. Brian gasped, "Wolf tracks?"

His legs gave out from under him and he plopped down onto the ground. The memories of the previous night flooded back to him. Running through the forest, hunting the rabbit, smelling the trees and the wolf that bit him. Then it hit him. 

Brian whispered, "No way." He was a wolf. 

_But how is this possible?_ He thought. A wave of fear washed over him and he remembered his turning out in the clearing. He buried his face in the palms of his hands. _Oh my god, I am one of them. A werewolf!_ He looked back at the wolf track- his wolf tracks- and smiled. 

"Wait, what?" He asked himself. _Was I...? No, there is no way,_ he thought. But the tingling feeling he felt when he looked at his own pawprints only grew. He was actually looking forward to his next turning. He craved the sense of freedom it gave him. Hell, he had _fun._

"I can't believe it," he said. He felt like he was betraying the thing that made him who he was, his humanity. With his newfound lycanthropy, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was something different, something beyond what he was before he was bitten and before he turned. Yet, he felt good about it, and that is what disturbed him the most. 

He stood up and walked over to the fire pit. He saw the Scrabble box place on a nearby cooler. He froze. 

_How am I going to tell Freddie and Roger?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what I did there with the title? 
> 
> Do you have a favorite part in the fic so far? If so, please comment down below!


	11. [Roger feels] Jealousy [for not winning any Scrabble]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger didn't sleep well and has a bone to pick with Brian and Freddie.
> 
> Brian is acting weirder than normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Switch to Roger's POV

———∞◊∞———

Roger woke up to the sound of songbirds singing overhead and he tightened his grip on his sleeping bag. The smell of toast hit his nose and he hoped that what he was smelling was breakfast. Roger slipped on his shoes and scowled at the sleeping figure of Freddie. 

_ If I act like an arsehole today, it is your fault for waking me up so many times with your snoring, _ Roger thought. 

He crawled out of the tent and found Brian toasting slices of bread over a newly lit fire. _Thank god, some food!_ Roger thought, _I've been hungry since the fourth time Freddie woke me up!_ Roger silently tip-toed over to Brian. He passed the Scrabble box that he left on the cooler and noticed that Brian set out a jar of jam. Roger would have found it considerate if he wasn't still angry from the time Brian woke him up. 

Roger put his hands on his hips and shouted, "Next time you decide to take a piss in the middle of the night, please do so further away from the tents and out of earshot!" 

Brian jumped and his toast fell into the fire. He grumbled and grabbed another slice of bread. Roger walked over and sat down next to him. Roger scratched his head and stretched trying as hard as he could to ignore Brian at all costs. 

"Good morning to you, too. I am making breakfast. I hope you like jam on toast," Brian said. 

Roger continued to refuse to look at Brian and instead stared ahead at the dancing flames. The fire seemed to chase itself around and mesmerized Roger like watching a fish swim. A burnt log fell and Roger snapped back to reality.

"It will do," Roger grumbled. _Okay, but why do you have to be such an arsehole when you are tired and hungry?_ He asked himself. He smirked and internally answered _Because it's more fun._

An overdramatic yawn brought Roger and Brian's attention behind them. Freddie strut forwards with his arms in the air mid-stretch. 

"Good morning, my dears," Freddie greeted, "What have we to eat? Toast and jam, it seems!" 

Brian smiled and said, "Morning, Fred. Great to see you slept well." 

Roger narrowed his eyes and his gaze darted between his two friends. All he could think about where his lost minutes of slumber. 

Freddie titled his head and commented, "Rog, you look like my mum when Kash and I brought a frog into the kitchen." 

Roger snorted and said, "Freddie, you were sawing logs last night. At one point I was sure that I heard an animal cry, but no! It was you snoring like your life depended on it. Luckily, I was able to fall asleep a few times, but I must have woken up about a dozen times throughout the whole night!" 

Freddie sat down nimbly on the other side of Brian like he intended to use him as a human shield. "I'm sorry," Freddie said, "Try to fall asleep before me like Brian here." 

Brian froze and blinked a few times. He shook his head, sending his messy curly hair flying in all directions. "Would anyone like some jam on toast?" he finally asked. 

Roger gladly took the first slice available and inhaled it like he hadn't eaten in a week. "You make the best campfire toast," Roger said with his mouth full, "Absobloodylutely amazing." 

Brian chuckled and said, "Thank you. Hopefully, it will get some energy in ya." 

The three of them devour their breakfast and jam can was near empty when they were done.

"What are we going to do today, darlings?" Freddie asked as he wiped his face with a napkin. 

Roger suggested, "Why don't we take a little stroll through the woods and walk off breakfast, hm?"

"Sounds good to me," Brian said barely loud enough to hear. 

Roger and Freddie followed Brian through the trees on a path that only the guitarist seemed to know.

"Are we still planning on seeing Tim and his aunt tomorrow for lunch?" Freddie asked Brian who walked several paces ahead. 

_ Shit! I completely forgot about that, _ Roger thought, _I hope I have something to wear and I don't smell like rubbish._

Brian stopped and turned around. "Yes, we are still meeting them tomorrow," he answered, "I am excited for you to meet Tim. He is one of my best friends and is a good chap." 

Brian turned back and marched on. _Where is he taking us?_ Roger wondered, _If I am about to get murdered in the middle of Hompy Bong Forest of all places, I swear..._

The three of them came across a clearing. The ground beneath them was freshly torn and rugged. Roger narrowed his eyes and saw claw marks that littered the soil. 

Freddie spun around like a ballerina and laughed, "Oh! Someone must have had fun here rolling around in the mud." 

Roger looked at Freddie and slowly shook his head in disappointment. Brian ignored them and continued walking around the clearing exploring every last detail. 

Freddie said, "Sorry I made a dirty joke, but the mud seems to be everywhere."

Roger giggled and said, "Very punny, Freddie." 

"It could have been an animal," Brian loudly corrected from the opposite side of the clearing. Roger couldn't help but note how uncomfortable Brian seemed. He felt like Brian wanted to say something but didn't have the right words. 

Brian walked stiffly to the middle of the clearing and looked up at the sky. _Did he see something?_ Roger wondered and followed suit. 

"Roger, why on earth are you squinting into the fucking sun? You look like you are smelling a fart!" Freddie teased. 

Roger looked back down and blinked a few times to get his vision back. Brian already moved on and was staring intently at a patch of particularly torn up ground. 

Roger picked up a stick from the ground and threw it at Freddie. To his surprise, Brian jogged over to it, picked it up, and handed it back to him.

"I think this is yours," he said and returned back to his silent investigation. 

Roger turned to Freddie with a confused look on his face. Freddie looked equally bewildered and shrugged. 

"We should continue that Scrabble game, eh?" Brian said with a grin. 

"I can't argue with that logic," Roger responded. 

Freddie and Roger followed Brian back to camp. The sun overhead started to heat up the air around them, so Roger was thankful that they were going back to camp. 

Scrabble ended almost as terrible as the previous time.

"I will add an a, s, t, r, and o to your photography, Freddie, and that gives me 'astrophotography!" Brian cheered as he placed down the letters. 

Freddie and Roger stared at the board with their moves agape. _How is that even possible?_ Roger thought.

"I've never heard of such a thing! Are we sure that is a word?" Roger asked. _Please tell me not,_ he prayed, _too many big words that have nothing to do with what I like._

"Yes. It means photography of space," Brian replied, "And it gives me eighty points." 

Freddie cursed under his breath and penciled in the points on their score sheet. "And with that, I think that it is safe to say, dears, Brian won this round," he said as he added up all of their points. 

Roger fumed with fury. "One Scrabble win! That is all I ask!" he shouted as he flipped the Scrabble board sending the pieces flying everywhere. He picked up a rock and threw it at a tree. _It feels so good to get the anger out,_ he thought. 

When he turned around, Freddie and Brian were already cleaning up the pieces. Roger came and knealt down to help them. 

"I demand a rematch!" Roger declared. 

Brian looked up at him and for a moment Roger could've sworn that he had the eyes of a wolf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going out of town tomorrow, so I think that it will be unlikely that I will post anything until I get back (Saturday.) 
> 
> This chapter kinda starts off the end game of this first part of the series. Think of it as Captian America: Civil War and the next two chapters Avengers: Infinity War and then after that Avengers: Endgame. (NO ONE DIES. I REPEAT, NO ONE DIES.)


	12. [Freddie vows that] Friends Will Be Friends [and that he will look out for his new family]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band has lunch at Tim's house.
> 
> Tim has some unwanted visitors staying there from Cornwall. Freddie gets a creepy vibe from them.
> 
> Brian has an allergic reaction and Freddie suspects something is up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Switch to Freddie's POV

———∞◊∞———

Freddie shifted around in the back seat of Roger's car and straightened out his collar. The day arrived on which the band would meet at Brian's old friend Tim's house for lunch before they go back down to London. Roger pulled into Tim's drive and shut off his car. Rain droplets started to accumulate on the windshield as a soft rumble of thunder rolled above them. _Thank goodness we left before it started raining,_ Freddie thought. 

The three of them hopped out of the car and huddled beneath one shared umbrella held by Brian. Brian knocked on the front door and a tall man with flat shoulder-length black hair greeted them.

"Brian! And you two must be Freddie and Roger. Come in, come in," the man said with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. 

The band shuffled inside the atrium of the house. 

"I'm Tim Staffell. It is a pleasure to meet all of you finally," the man introduced himself and stuck out his hand.

Freddie shook his hand and replied, "Pleasure to meet you too. I'm Freddie Bulsara and blondie over there is Roger Taylor." 

"Bulsara? What an interesting name!" said an old lady behind Tim. Her hair was completely white and she stood a head shorter than Freddie. She had a crooked nose on which her thick glasses rested, but her eyes and expression were sharp and alert. 

"Guys, this is my Aunt," Tim said. 

"Please call me Ms. Betty," she said with a wide smile like Tim's. 

_How cute. They favour each other,_ Freddie thought. 

Roger shook her hand and said, "You have such a beautiful house, Ms. Betty. Thank you for taking us in for lunch." 

"Indeed. I love the feel," Freddie added. 

Ms. Betty blushed and said, "My goodness! Thank you. Now follow me. Food is ready on the table. I'm sure you poor boys are starving!" 

She led them past the living room to the dining room. In the living room sat three ragged men in hushed conversation. They all wore muted neutral colors and their faces were far from clean-shaven. In sync they looked up from their whispers and their stares blazed a hole into Freddie's soul. Freddie felt shivers run down his spine and the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His internal alarm threatened to go off. 

"These men are Cornish wilderness specialists that Hompy Bong Village hired to investigate the exotic wild animal sightings in our forest," Ms. Betty explained, "I'm sure you heard about the wolf sightings?"

"Yes. Brian told us," Roger answered. 

To Freddie's dismay, the eerie wildlife specialists joined them at the dining table for lunch. 

"We are specifically visiting based on those wolf sightings," one of the specialists said as they sat down. 

Brian laughed and said, "That is one of the reasons why I dragged Freddie and Roger from London into the country!" 

"Did Brian tell you the story?" Ms. Betty asked Freddie and Roger.

Before Freddie could respond that Brian did tell them the story, Tim raised his hand for attention from the table. The whole table silenced and turned to Tim, even the three wildlife specialists. 

"As you may know, I invited Brian out to Hompy Bong Forest to get some fresh air and release some stress. On the second night we where there, we heard a shrill scream come through the trees," Tim said like he was telling a campfire story to a bunch of kids, "Brian, being the good ol' chap he is, ran to see what the matter was. It turns out that a pack of teenagers trapped a wolf, or a wolflike dog, in a snare or something like that and was tauntin' it. Brian released the wolf, but not before the wolf bit his arm!" 

The tallest of the specialists narrowed his eyes and said, "You didn't mention that he was actually bitten." 

"I'm pretty sure I did," Tim spat, "Maybe you all were drunk again and forgot." 

Ms. Betty shot Tim a death glare and Tim ducked his head. Freddie sat uncomfortably in his seat. He felt like he just witnessed a personal family discussion as an outsider. _There is more to this than it seems,_ he thought. The wildlife specialists turned their backs to the rest of the table and continued on in a hushed discussion. 

Brian cleared his throat and turned to Tim. "Did I tell you that Roger, Freddie, and I have started a band?" he asked. 

Tim laughed and replied, "You didn't waste any time replacing me, didn't you?" 

Brian smiled and responded, "Well, you did say that you were going somewhere in Hompy Bong." Tim shoved Brian's shoulder and Brian laughed. 

Tim looked at Roger and Freddie with a smirk. "Which one of ya is the bass player that Brian here mustered up, hm?" 

Freddie folded his arms across his chest and answered, "Neither. Rog here is the drummer and I am the lead singer." 

Tim raised his eyebrows and said, "Well, that's a problem. Your sound will be too thin." 

"Like runny cheese," Ms. Betty agreed, "Or a watered down milkshake." 

Roger and Freddie giggled. _This old bird is a character,_ Freddie thought.

"Tell me about it!" Brian laughed. 

Ms. Betty took a sip of her drink and said, "There is a boy— well, a young man now I suppose— that lives on the outskirts of the village that used to play bass. Maybe you should give him a ring."

Tim shook his head. "John goes to the little University a town over for their honors engineering program. I highly doubt anyone could convince him to drop that opportunity and move to London to play in his free time," he said. 

"When we get back to London we plan to start auditions," Roger said. 

Ms. Betty and Tim said in unison, "Good luck!" 

Brian suddenly threw his silverware onto his plate and hissed through clenched teeth. 

"What's wrong, dear?" Freddie asked his friend. He looked over and saw red painful blisters forming on Brian's hands. 

Freddie pursed his lips. "Darling, what's going on? Are you having an allergic reaction?" He questioned.

Brian quickly nodded his head. He got up from the table and went through a door into the kitchen. Freddie heard him turn on the water faucet in the sink. 

"Please excuse me, Ms. Betty," Freddie said. He got up from his seat and followed Brian into the kitchen. Freddie felt the eyes of the specialists burning holes in the back of his head and he quickened his pace. 

In the kitchen, Brian's figure was hunched over the sink and he ran his hands through the running water. 

"Do you need help, dear?" Freddie asked. 

Brian hissed and cringed in pain as he ran his hands under the water and ignores Freddie's question. Freddie moved closer to Brian's side and gasped. Brian's facial expression was twisted into something animalistic and savage with his teeth (which Freddie noted looked more like fangs) bared. 

Concerned, Freddie tapped Brian on the shoulder and asked, "Doing alright?"

Brian lurched back from the sink with a yelp. His eyes met Freddie's warm brown ones glowing amber and fading back to hazel. 

Freddie blinked a few times. _What was that? A trick of the light?_ he wondered. Freddie reached forwards and grabbed Brian's hands to look at them. To his surprise, the blisters were almost completely healed. 

Brian pulled his hands out of Freddie's grasp and wiped them on his shirt. Freddie stared at his friend and cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm doing much better," Brian finally answered, "The water seems to have washed whatever was causing the reaction off." 

"Good, good. I was worried about you for a second," Freddie said. _He's going to cause me to grey early, I just know it,_ Freddie thought. 

When the two walked back into the dining room, the specialists glared at them from their seats.

Freddie narrowed his eyes and asked them, "What are you looking at?"

The two of the wildlife specialists diverted the gaze while the tallest one stared on. _That's it,_ Freddie thought, _we are out of here._

Freddie walked over to Roger and put his hands on his friend's shoulders. 

"... and that is why Lennon was the best of the Beatles," Roger concluded. 

"I don't know. I like the way Paul dances," Ms, Betty said as she demonstrated with a little shoulder shake. Tim playfully rolled his eyes. 

"I believe we are leaving," Freddie announced, "We don't want to get stuck in M1 traffic as we get to Milton Keynes." 

Roger looked up at him and asked with blatant confusion, "So soon?" 

Freddie glared at the tallest of the wildlife specialists and answered, "Yes, love, unfortunately. I hope you ate enough for the drive."

Brian looked at Freddie quizzically and Freddie nodded his head to the living room. While everyone else stood up and started to say their goodbyes, they slipped into the vacant room. 

"What's going on, Fred?" Brian asked. 

"The Cornish wildlife specialists give me an uneasy feeling. We must leave early," Freddie insists.

"I'm confused," Brian admitted.

Tim popped into the living room and asked, "Is everyone alright?" 

Brian opened his mouth to say something but Freddie cut him off. "If I'm being honest, dear, those specialists are giving me the creeps and the extra motive to get going. Nothing against you, they just make the hair on the back of my neck stand up," Freddie explained.

Brian gave Freddie the side-eye as if he were saying, _Shut up or I am going to kill you._ Freddie tilted his head up in clear defiance. 

Tim sighed and said, "Same here. Everyone else in the village seems to like them, but I don't trust 'em. Frankly, I'm glad I'm not the only one. They are so keen on hunting down the wolf in Hompy Bong Forest claiming it's the devil or something. Wildlife specialists aren't supposed to be superstitious drunkards." 

Brian patted Tim's shoulder and consoled, "Sorry you have to put up with them, mate." 

Tim replied, "Oh don't worry about it. I'm sure that they will be out of here before I know it."

"Sorry to break the moment, but where's the loo?" Roger's voice sounded through the living room. Freddie looked over and saw him standing in the doorway with a smirk. 

Tim laughed and responded, "Second door on the left." 

As Roger used the toilet, Brian and Freddie said their goodbyes to Tim and Ms. Betty. Freddie made sure to give the cold shoulder to the three specialists in hopes that they got the message, _I don't like you. Fuck off._

As the band pulled out of the drive in Roger's car, Freddie caught the face of the tallest specialist staring at them through a window on the first floor. Freddie made eye contact with him and the man disappeared into the shadows of the house. 

Freddie looked at his bandmates who sat chatting away in the front seat blissfully unaware that they were just being watched. _These are my brothers,_ Freddie thought to himself, _My new family I will protect them._

As they drove past the back of the welcome sign to Hompy Bong, Freddie was sure that he would live a perfectly happy life if he never saw the wilderness specialists again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are in the endgame now :) 
> 
> Once again, I apologize for the filling nature of the last chapter. I hope that it at least clarified some things. 
> 
> Just as a reminder- My update schedule is going be a little off because I am going out of town. I will be back on Saturday. After that, there will just be four more chapters until the first installment in this series is complete! Yay!


	13. [The wildlife specialists think that Brian is a] Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author finally gets out a new chapter.
> 
> Finding a bassist is difficult.
> 
> The Cornish wildlife specialists from Hompy Bong make a visit to London.
> 
> Roger finds out that Brian is a werewolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Switch to Brian's POV

———∞◊∞———

It had been two weeks since the trio returned from their camping trip and they failed to find a suitable bassist for their band. _Tim did say that it was going to be difficult,_ Brian thought, _but I didn't think that it was going to be_ this _difficult._

Brian sat on the couch in Freddie's flat with his precious Red Special resting in his lap. He stared at the ceiling with his mind a million miles away. A fortnight ago, he found out that he was a werewolf and he made a choice to keep it a secret. He almost told Freddie and Roger when he took them to the clearing where he shifted under the full moon, but something held him back. He was terrified of how they would react. Would they think he was crazy? How would he prove that he won't hurt them? How could he answer becoming a monster of legends? _I will tell Roger Freddie when the time is right,_ he decided, _and until then I will live life as normal as possible. And might as well try to have some fun too._ Brian didn't even want to think about breaking the news to his parents. To him, he would cross that bridge when he got there.

Freddie scribbled things down in a notebook beside Brian making the pencil squeak as he dragged it over the paper. Roger sat on the floor from him and added finishing touches on new fliers as Freddie's cats walked across the old ones.

"There. That should do it," Roger said, "The glammed up advertisements should attract some new prospects." 

"Mike, Barry, and Doug. Goodbye, goodbye," Freddie mumbled to himself as he penciled down another word. 

Brian rubbed his head. "It's either the personality or their ability to play," Brian complained, "Why can't we find a bass player that doesn't have a shit personality that can actually play along to a song?"

Roger leaned back against the floor and groaned. He added, "I'm never going to be able to look at the name 'Doug' the same ever again."

Freddie shivered. Then like magic, a lightbulb went off in his head and he flipped the notebook open again and wrote down the words _'Send shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time.'_

Roger pounded his fist against the floorboards and said, "If it's really so difficult, why don't we just drop instruments all together and do a cappella? Ya know, like the old days with the stuff our parents listen to?" 

Brian absent-mindedly hugged his guitar and shook his head. He gasped, "Oh god, anything but that!" 

Freddie snorted and said, "Well, I'd be down." 

Roger looked up at them from the floor. "I was joking," he said matter-of-factly. 

The more Brian thought about it, the more he wished that Roger's idea had been sincere. During one of the follow-up jam sessions with one of the bass auditioners, Brian almost shifted into his wolf form during daylight due to the stress. _Come to think of it, I'm catching bits of it out during the day anyways,_ Brian thought. Since he was bitten, he found his sense of smell and hearing to be more than ten times better than before. He would also find himself wanting to rub his scent in new areas or a feeling of kinship when he saw a flock of ravens. Most notably, he found himself more and more protective of Roger and Freddie, his band, his friends, his _family._ Now he had an explanation. 

Freddie stood up and his movement snapped Brian out of his train of thought. "Damn, it is a quarter after four. I need to go and open up shop for the evening rush!" he said, "I learned the hard way to get there before Roger." 

"And why's that?" Brian asked. 

Roger rolled his eyes and Freddie flicked his wrist in defiance.

"Because the one time I didn't Roger sold one of my own jackets that I left in the back. I had to go and chase down the customer who bought it and buy it back from them," Freddie explained.

Brian raised his eyebrows and looked at Roger who simply shrugged. 

"Now darlings, shift through the lyrics and perfect them. I want at least one song done. And feed the cats and lock up before you leave!" Freddie commanded. He closed the door with a thud. 

Brian sighed and set the Red Special back into her guitar case. Roger grabbed the stack of loose leafed paper on his amp and brought it to Freddie's kitchen table. 

"Doing Alright, Keep Yourself Alive, and Liar," Roger read aloud. 

"Three songs to work through," Brian said. 

Roger added under his breath, "And not one of them mine." 

_Did he mean for me to hear that?_ Brian wondered. 

Brian sat down at the table and stared at all the corrections the band already made, crossing out one member's suggestion while someone else crossed out or highlighted another. Each of their personalities was strong and part of their problem in finding a bass player was finding one that was quiet enough to balance them out. 

Roger pulled out one of the sheets that housed the most recent version of Keep Yourself Alive. 

"I dunno, Brian," Roger lamented as he counted all of their messy corrections, "Do you think you're better every day?"

"No, I just think I'm two steps nearer to my grave," Brian replied without looking up from the paper in front of him.

Roger gasped, "That's good! That's good!" 

"Sorry?" Brian asked.

"Lyrics! Lyrics, Brian. Those will go perfectly after the solo," Roger said.

Brian tilted his head and asked, "Who will sing them?"

"We will," Roger answered, "We made it up and we'll say 'em as we wrote 'em."

Brian laughed and said, "Freddie isn't here to say no."

"Precisely," Roger agreed. 

An hour passed and the pair's stomachs started to growl. Brian's face flushed in embarrassment.

"We should get something to eat," Roger said.

Brian furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "Don't you think Fred will need you at the shop?" 

Roger stood up from his chair. "Nah, he'll be fine. Our evening rush this time of the week is ore like the evening half a dozen people and a stray cat," he replied. 

He walked over to the cabinet below the kitchen sink and poured cat food into some bowls. 

"What about Peach's?" Brian suggested.

Roger looked at him and smirked. "Only if it better than last time," he responded. 

_ Last time, right, _ Brian thought, _last time was right after my first shifts and I was a wreck._

On their walk to the cafe, a familiar and threatening scent floated through the coarse London air. Roger and Brian turned a corner, but the scent followed them. It would dance closer and further away, just out of grasp and keen to keep downwind. Instinctively, Brian tilted his head up and sniffed. 

_ The specialists from Tim's, _ he thought, _I'd know that muddied alcohol smell anywhere._ He paused for a second in his tracts and glanced over his shoulder. A dark figure dashed behind a phone booth. Brian narrowed his eyes and thought, _What are they up to?_

"What's wrong, Bri?" Roger asked from beside him. 

Without taking his eyes off of the phone booth Brian replied, "We are being followed." 

"What the hell?" Roger asked. 

Brian grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. "C'mon. We need to get to Peach's," he whispered. 

Roger shook his arm out of Brian's grasp. "Alright, alright," Roger whispered back. 

The two half jogged and half walked the rest of the way to the cafe. The scent was always slightly behind them and Brian routinely looked back to let their followers know that he was onto them. _Surely they'll back off,_ Brian thought, _Wildlife specialists my ass!_

When they arrived at the cafe, Roger swung open the door and almost hit Brian in the face. They shoved themselves inside and took a table in the back. The faint scent of the specialists lingered in Peach's like it was stuck on someone's clothes. Brian furrowed his eyebrows and inhaled deeply. The scent was faint but still threatening. It moved around like it was trapped in a draft. _Must've leaked in from outside,_ Brian figured. 

"Think they are gone?" Roger asked. His eyes were wide with worry. 

Brian took one last sniff and confirmed that the threat was minimal. "Yes, I think that we are good," Brian responded. 

"Wonderful. I'm half-starved. I'll get us something to eat in line and stay away from any windows," Roger said. He got up from his seat and gingerly wandered into line. 

Brian watched him tentatively from their table. The worker that took Roger's order was a redhead girl that regularly worked at the cafe. _Sally J, if I remember correctly,_ Brian thought. The girl smiled at Roger and playfully pushed his shoulder. Brian stifled a growl that rose in his throat. When Sally typed away at the cash register, Roger turned back to Brian and wiggled his eyebrows. Brian grinned back at him. His friend returned to their table and placed a sandwich down in front of him.

"Ham for me and green stuff for you," Roger said with a smile. 

"Thanks, Rog," Brian said before he took a bite. 

The pair ate in silence and warily observed everything inside and outside of Peach's Cafe. New people would flock inside and out. A couple of kids ordered biscuits. A phone rang behind the counter and Sally answered it with a forced smile. The scent of the threat slowly seeped away and Brian relaxed. 

Roger glanced over his shoulder and asked, "Think the coast is clear?"

Brian nodded and replied, "Think so." 

"We need to get to the shop," Roger said, "Freddie's gonna give me hell for being late." 

They get up from their table and walk out of the cafe. Roger and Brian barely walked a block before the scent of the specialists started to follow them again along with the familiar smell of the cafe. Brian noted that they did better at keeping their distance and cover; one of them hid in a taxicab that they walked past. The scent of the tallest wildlife specialist hit Brian's nose like a train and he paused in his tracks completely ignoring Roger's chatter. _Where is that coming from?_ Brian wondered as he sniffed the air. 

Suddenly, Roger's screaming filled the air. He was absent beside Brian and the werewolf traced his friend to the alleyway about twenty feet in front of him. The sickening reek of silver washed over him like a tsunami. Every voice in Brian's head howled, _Roger!_

He ran up the sidewalk and hid behind a rubbish bin and listened.

"Where is it?" A woman asked. Her voice was muffled like she was wearing a mask.

"Front right pocket. Take it and go, you crazy bitch! Don't think I won't tell the coppers about this!" Roger retorted.

Another voice asked, "You think I have time for your games? We'll ask you again. Where is it?"

Brian froze and a lump formed in his throat. It was the tallest of the wildlife specialists from Tim's. Fury boiled beneath Brian's skin and he jumped into the opening of the alleyway. 

The woman held a silver knife to Roger's throat and wore a mask and goggles that obscured her face. Brian tore the woman off of Roger and threw her to the ground. He moved to check on his friend but was held in place by two men, who he confirmed by scent to be the other specialists. He pushed one of them and they stumbled around in the struggle. The tallest specialist creeped out of the shadows and his eyes glistened with excitement. 

"Bring them in," he commanded with a sickening grin.

Brian felt the sharp end of an object poke at his back as he was led forwards by the men at each of his arms. The smell hit his nose and he felt his fangs peak out. _Silver._ The woman dragged Roger forwards with them.

The two were taken to a building under construction. Equipment and concrete surrounded them like a cage. Brian was shoved down onto his knees. 

"Who turned you?" interrogated the tallest specialist who Brian now assumed was their leader. 

"What do you mean?" Brian asked.

"Are you part of a London pack?" asked the woman who held Roger. Roger squirmed under her grasp. 

Brian tilted his head. "A pack? Like an animal pack?" He replied. 

"Oh, don't try to play stupid with us," said one of the men who held Brian on the ground. 

"We know what you are, _monster,"_ the leader said from above him, "How many more of you are there, hm?"

He gestured toward Roger and asked, "Did you turn him? Make him like you?" 

The leader walked over to the blond and pushed him to the ground. 

Brian tried to break free from the other men's grasp to help his friend in vain. A frustrated snarl escaped his lips and he felt his fangs protrude from his gums. Roger looked up at him in horror. 

Brian froze and stared at his friend who was on the verge of tears. He collected himself and drew his fangs back in the best he could. 

"He has nothing to do with this. He had no idea. Nobody does," Brian insisted, "Nobody."

The leader scoffed and walked over to the woman that was holding Roger. Roger continued to stare at Brian and softly shook his head in disbelief.

"He is different from the rest," the woman whispered to the leader, "Stronger, more resistant to silver. Hell, his eyes glow amber." 

"So, some sort of alpha?" the leaders asked. 

The woman replied, "No alpha can resist creating a pack. These two are mates and yet blondie had no clue."

She walked over to Brian and pulled down her mask. She was Sally J, the girl from Peach's Cafe. She grabbed a wad of Brian's curly hair and pulled his head backward and forced him to look at her. She placed a hand on his jaw and turned his head from side to side like she was examining him. 

"What's your deal?" She questioned. 

Brian looked her in the eye with pure hatred and spat on her face. To his surprise, she freaked out, and frantically tried to wipe it off with her leave while the leader tried to help her. Roger kicked the back of the legs of one of the men holding Brian and ran out of the building. Brian shook free from their grasp and chased after his friend.

The specialists tried to follow Brian but he threw them off course with a few quick turns through the streets with their smell quickly fading behind him. The werewolf followed Roger's scent that led him behind a rusting dumpster beside an Italian restaurant. 

Brian sighed and said, "I know you are there, Rog. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you.: 

Brian heard him shift around behind the dumpster. "Don't come any closer!" Roger shouted, "I've got some rusty spoons and my throwing aim is a lot better than you think!"

Brian sat down in front of the dumpster and he felt Roger's eyes look at him from underneath it.

"I know it is a lot to process, believe me," Brian started.

"No shit," Roger said.

Brian continued, "Those guys, whoever they are, are still out there. They'll come back. If I can find you, I am sure that they can too."

A plate rattled as Roger sat up again. "And what are you proposing?" he asked. 

"Rog, my place isn't that far off. I think that we should go there and regroup," Brian answered.

"How do you know they won't follow us there, hm? How do you know that they haven't followed you here even?" Roger asked. 

Brian laughed faintly to himself. He replied, "Can't smell them." 

Roger shuffled out from the other side of the dumpster and stood in front of Brian. "Can't smell them, eh?" He asked.

Brian replied from the ground, "I have a good nose."

Roger put his hands on his hips and said, "Okay. I'll go."

Brian stood up and asked with a surprised smile on his face, "Really?" 

Roger suddenly looked annoyed. "Brian, what are my options?" He responded, "Hide behind a dumpster waiting for those psychopaths to find me again to kill me or to go to my freak mate's flat who tried to defend me from them?" 

Brian gestured behind him and said, "It's this way."

When they arrived at the front door of his flat, Brian smelled the air one last time to make sure they weren't followed. _Nothing,_ he concluded. He opened the door and ushered Roger inside. 

Brian turned on the light and immediately felt blood rush to his cheeks with the sight of all of his space and werewolf books opened and littered across his desk and couch. He immediately knelt down and started to pick them up leaving a bewildered Roger standing by the door watching him. 

"So, what are you?" Roger asked from behind him.

Brian paused cleaning and said, "Sorry?"

"What are you? Considering that you aren't exactly human?" Roger corrected.

Brian felt uncomfortable under Roger's gaze and continued picking up his books. "Well, I like to think that I'm just as human as the next bloke but just a little different," he answered. 

"And what else can you do besides the teeth thing and, erhm, smell?" Roger questioned with a hint of childlike curiosity in his voice, "And when did this all start? Was it since you were born?" 

Brian sighed and said, "I think that you should sit down."

Roger walked over to the couch and sat in a freshly cleared cushion. Brian spun the chair at his desk around and sat across from him.

"I think it all started when I was bit by the wold when I was with Tim at Hompy Bong Forest," Brian finally answered, "I didn't notice anything alarming at first— just my clothes being torn up or flashbacks of memories I didn't remember experiencing."

Roger nodded.

"As for what is different," Brian continued, "Well, my senses are shaper now and you saw the fangs."

Roger smiled like a little kid at Christmas. "And what about the eyes?" He asked.

"What about them?"

"They glowed like fire when your, erhm, fangs came out," Roger clarified. 

Brian said, "I haven't gotten a chance to notice that. You see, I..." He paused. _I really didn't think I would do this now,_ Brian thought. 

Roger leaned forward in anticipation. 

"I-I," Brian stuttered, "When the sun goes down and night falls, I turn into a wolf." 

Roger blinked for a moment as Brian's statement settled in. "A wolf... with fire eyes..." he mumbled to himself. He smirked and leaned back comfortably on the couch like he owned the place.

"What is it?" Brian asked.

"I met it before, your wolf I mean," Roger said, "The day you stumbled into Fred and me's shop, the dog that came by after closing wasn't a dog. It was a wolf with amber glowing eyes."

Brian's jaw dropped.

Roger continued, "I gave it a ham sandwich, the same kind you dropped off for me the next day. I didn't even tell you where I lived. I bet you sniffed it out."

Brian wanted to crawl up in a hole and hide. He felt a sudden influx of emotions. Shame, relief, and wonder knocked the breath out of his lungs. At the same time he sank into the seat he felt like he was lifted into the atmosphere exposed and on display for everyone to see. 

"I can't believe that my friend is a werewolf," Roger awed. 

Brian froze. _Werewolf? I wouldn't say that,_ Brian thought, _Being a werewolf would mean me being a monster and having no humanity. I'm not a monster and my humanity is as strong as ever._

"And if you are a werewolf, then those people who captured us are werewolf hunters. Like my granduncle," Roger concluded. 

Brian started to feel his well-acquainted nightly mental fogginess before the shift happened. Got up from his chair and looked out the window at the darkening dusk sky. 

"What is it?" Roger asked from the couch.

Brian turned and said, "W-we need to call Freddie. Go, go to Hyde Park." _Great. There goes talking,_ he thought.

Roger nodded and dashed to the phone and dialed his and Freddie's shop. The pair waited in tense silence as the phone rang. 

"We need to tell Freddie," Roger said. Brian nodded in response and fought for control over his vocal chords. _Not now, not now,_ he thought.

The line clicked when Freddie picked up. "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? You were supposed to be here hours ago!" Freddie's voice boomed over the phone making Brian cringe.

"Brian and I were attacked, Fred. We decided to get something to eat, but we were followed. It was at knifepoint, Freddie! We need to meet up at Hyde Park," Roger replied.

"Are you alright, darling?" Freddie's voice quivered, "And wouldn't your flat be safer?"

Brian took the phone out of Roger's hands and spoke into it the best he could, "Fred, just trust me. I need to show you something."

"I'll be there in ten," Freddie replied and hung up the phone. 

Brian ran to Hyde Park and Roger struggled to keep up behind him. Brian had been going to Hyde Park ever since he discovered that he shifted to allow his wolf form to run around in the trees. He felt bad having to keep it locked up in his flat, so he tried to get it the best form of outdoors that London could offer. 

They came across a park bench and Brian slipped off his shirt and handed it to Roger. Roger looked at it confused and Brian heard his heart rate increase. Brian sighed and took off his clogs. He tried to speak but only wolf whining came out. He pointed at the clogs, then at Roger, and made a slicing motion over his throat. The message was clear: _Don't lose these!_

"Ok, I get it. I won't let them out of my sight!" Roger laughed. 

The sun went under the horizon and Brian felt his bones start to move. He gave one last look at Roger before running away to complete his shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from out of town! I've got so many funny stories to tell...
> 
> Sorry to be reposting so late. I hope that this chapter lives up to the wait! 
> 
> ***I meant to ask this earlier, but do you guys have any guesses about the true identity of the werewolf that turned Brian? Or why?***


	14. [All Freddie can think right now is] Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER
> 
> Freddie finds out that Brian is a werewolf.
> 
> We get some glimpses of wolf!Brian personality and maybe answers to some of your questions. 
> 
> Will Freddie's charisma be enough to save his friends? (The author sure hopes so. I have more ideas for this storyline.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Switch to Freddie's POV

———∞◊∞———

The night grew pale over London as Freddie marched to Hyde Park with his shoulders hunched over and his clenched fists shoved into his pockets. His gaze was stern, unwavering, determined, and fixed on the concrete ahead of him. When people saw him coming their way, they would move to the side of the sidewalk to let him through. If someone shined a torch at Freddie just right, they would see steam coming out of his ears. 

Freddie didn't know who he was more pissed at, the people who attacked his brothers or Roger for being a dickhead and getting them in the situation. _If he had just come straight to the shop instead of trying to take Brian out for a little snack this wouldn't have happened in the first place,_ Freddie thought. The little mental image of his bandmates in terror with some bloke holding them at knifepoint paraded around his head like it owned the place. Freddie desperately tried to drown it out with his frustration towards Roger ( _And I suppose Brian isn't completely innocent either,_ Freddie figured,) for not showing up to work and forcing him to close up early to trek halfway across town to meet up with them for some teenage girl slumber party spill-all. This frustration was most familiar to him and therefore sorted as the top priority. 

He came across the entrance to Hyde Park closet to Brian's flat. 

"I assume that they went this way," Freddie said aloud for no one to hear but the empty night. 

His adrenaline coursed through his veins like river rapids and lightning shot to his fingertips. He felt like he was entering a boxing arena like he did while he was younger. Freddie instinctively jumped up and down and stretched out his arms as he prepared to fight an invisible opponent. 

A man was sitting down on a park bench in front of him and a lamp illuminated his blond hair and delicate face. _Roger._

"What the bloody hell did you think that you were doing leaving me to tend to the shop all by myself? That you and Brian would play a game a hide and seek like schoolboys? And get fucking _mugged?"_ Freddie yelled at him. 

Roger jumped up from his seat and scream whispered back to Freddie, "Shh, Fred! Lower your voice. You'll scare him off!" 

_I'm getting too old for this,_ Freddie thought as he jogged up to his friend. "Scare who off? Where is Brian?" he asked. 

Roger trembled and put his hands on Freddie's shoulders like he was a father talking to his son. Freddie fought the urge to slap them off, but he realized that Roger was being serious. Worry sunk into his blue eyes as he looked into Freddie's brown ones.

"What's wrong, darling? The anticipation is truly killing me," Freddie said with flakes of bitterness littered in his tone.

Roger squeezed his shoulders and responded, "Stay here. And promise you won't try to run away or try to hurt him." 

Freddie sighed and gave up on his tough facade. "Okay, dear. I promise," Freddie replied.

Roger nodded solemnly. He walked down from the bench to a dim-lit cluster of bushes and began rustling through them.

A light contrast against the dark pavement of the walking path caught Freddie's eye. He looked down beside the park bench. 

_Brian's clogs?_ Freddie thought. He squatted down to get a better look and saw the white shoes placed neatly next to one of Brian's folded shirts. A huff of warm air blew onto the side of his head. Freddie turned his head up and his eyes widened. Inches away from his face was the nose of a massive wolf. Its fur was dark and wavy, and longer tuffs framed around its neck like a permed cape. The wolf's paws were the size of a person's hands, and its build was long and lean. Most notably were its eyes, eyes that gleamed like burning embers and that Freddie somewhat recognized. Its stare bore into Freddie like it was reading his soul. Freddie awed, _oh shit._

Freddie hissed through clenched teeth careful to not make any sudden movements, "Roger! Roger! Get back here now!" 

The sound of Roger's running steps patted behind him. His friend came into view and patted the wolf's back like it was his pet spaniel. The wolf rolled his eyes and relaxed. Freddie sat still as a statue and his gaze darted between Roger and the wolf. _Clearly I am missing something,_ Freddie thought, _there is no way that_ thing _is domesticated and Roger's track record with the outdoors doesn't constitute for a sudden wild animal friendship._

"Freddie, this is the wolf that I told you I saw and gave my sandwich to the other day," Roger said with a mischievous smirk, "His name is Brian and he likes to play guitar."

Freddie gulped and quivered, "Its a wolf— the wolf that ate your ham sandwich. And you named it Brian?" 

The wolf's ears droop on either side of its head like wings on an aeroplane and it looked almost annoyed. It turned its head up to Roger and its ears pricked forwards again.

"Alright, alright. Clearly you aren't putting two and two together," Roger laughed. He stepped adjacent to Freddie and the wolf and pointed between them.

"Freddie, this is Brian. Our Brian. Tall bloke with the curly hair that dragged us out to Hompy Bong and wants to be lead guitarist in a rock band. Also a werewolf or the sorts," Roger said, "Brian, you already know Freddie." 

"Impossible," Freddie mumbled. He extended his hand for 'Brian' to sniff. The wolf gently smelled his hand and wagged his tail. _The animal bite, the ragged appearance, everything at Hompy Bong. I thought Ms. Betty could've spiked my tea,_ Freddie thought, _It's all coming together. Sure it adds up, but how can this be?_

"Tell me, when do we like to deal with the possible?" Roger asked. 

Freddie slowly moved his hand to the side of Brian's face and scratched behind his ears. The wolf leaned into it and then suddenly snapped his head away. Freddie took no offense and stood up.

"Well, that explains the glowing eyes and pointy teeth at Tim's," Freddie said.

Roger added, "And the silver allergy."

"Oh, so that is what that was!" Freddie said. He leaned down over Brian and talked to him in the baby voice he used with his cats. "You poor little thing," he cooed.

The wolf flattened his ears and growled. 

Freddie straightened his back and asked, "What?"

Brian stared at him. _Like he would respond,_ Freddie internally scolded himself. 

Roger shrugged and said, "I honestly have no idea. He randomly does that. I was petting him earlier when we were waiting for you to come and then I was growled at, hence why I was sitting on the bench when you came."

Freddie looked down at Brian and asked, "Like to still be treated as a human, huh dear?"

Brian wagged his tail and barked. 

"Wonder how much he can understand," Freddie said. 

"Enough," Roger answered. 

_This is all so strange,_ Freddie thought as he watched his werewolf bandmate take a few steps away from them into the shadows and sniff the air. _Never in my wildest dreams could I have come up with this,_ Freddie thought, _not even in an acid trip. Brian makes a beautiful and quirky wolf._ He couldn't help but shiver at the weirdness of it all.

Brian turned around and grunted at Roger and Freddie. 

"What is it?" Roger asked. 

A loud bang sang through the trees behind them and Freddie felt a sharp breeze graze across his cheek. It was a sound and feeling he knew all too well from the Zanzibar Revolution. Freddie ducked down low and zig-zagged through the bushes dragging Roger by his arm behind him. Brian loped slightly ahead of them and consistently looked back to make sure they kept up. The gun clicked another bullet into place and fired again at them again. It whistled through the air and hit a tree about a yard behind them. 

"The werewolf hunters!" Roger gasped as he, Freddie, and Brian ran through the park. 

Freddie asked, "The who now?"

Roger huffed, "The wildlife specialists from Hompy Bong at Tim's! Like my granduncle. And Sally J the bird from Peach's is one of 'em too! They—"

Roger and Freddie covered their heads as another shot fired. Brian turned his head back at them and yipped like he was telling them to run faster. 

"They are werewolf hunters and tried to kill Brian and me!" Roger finished.

"Ya Allah," Freddie muttered. _Getting shot at by werewolf hunters because Brian is a werewolf. Not at all how I thought this meet up would go,_ Freddie thought. Brian continued to guide them through Hyde Park like he was leading them somewhere. Freddie and Roger struggled to keep up as they stumbled over sticks and over the hills. Torchlight beamed through the trees behind them.

"The hunters, they kidnapped Brian and me, well, human-looking Brian and me, and interrogated us with knives. Guess they got guns too," Roger said.

Freddie's jaw dropped. "Kidnap? Interrogate? With knives? What on earth— is there anything else I missed at work?" Freddie asked. 

Roger teetered his head back and forth and replied, "Brian and I all but completed the lyrics to those songs that you left us with."

Brian's ears prick forwards and his hackle raised. He let out a low rumbling growl. Another shot fired into the air. The werewolf nosed Freddie and Roger behind a large rock into a small pit that went under it. 

"Okay, okay, we get it!" Roger scolded. 

Freddie ran his fingers over the walls of the pit and to his surprise, he felt claw marks. _Oh my god, this is his wolf den!_ Freddie thought. Brian took Roger and Freddie to his lupine home in the middle of London, and Freddie couldn't help but feel honored. 

Another shot was fired into the sky from atop the hill from which they came. Police sirens rang in the distance and Freddie couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. 

"If you keep doing that, the police will find you in no time!" Freddie yelled at the hunters. 

A woman's voice that Freddie recognized as Sally from Peach's responded, "Give us the werewolf or we will get him ourselves. We don't want to get messy, but we will."

"A little late for that, don't you think?" Roger retorted.

"Fools! You don't know what you are dealing with. That thing beside you is a killing machine. It is a miracle that it hasn't turned on you already!" responded a voice that Freddie realized was the creepy wildlife specialist that watched them from Tim's window. Freddie looked at the supposed killing machine who was pressed beside Roger and Freddie trembling. A gun clicked and Brian yelped in fear. 

Feeling a surge of courage, Freddie threw his hands in the air. The sounds of the police sirens grew closer. 

"What are you doing?" Roger hissed. Brian tilted his head. 

"Trying to keep ourselves alive," Freddie replied. _Hopefully, my negotiation skills and the sound of the police coming will do the trick,_ he prayed. He walked out from behind the rock and put himself squarely between his brothers and the hunters like a human shield. The hunters lowered their weapons. 

Sally asked, "What do you want?" 

"Now, darlings, the police are going to be here in about fifteen minutes. What is going to look better, a team of drunkards firing shots into the trees or a couple of lads taking their overgrown husky out for a walk?" Freddie asked. 

"Then make it quick lest they find a couple of corpses instead," one of the other hunters answered. 

Freddie swallowed. "What crime has Brian, erhm, the werewolf in question committed?" Freddie questioned. He could sense Roger face-palming at his attempt to play defense solicitor. 

"He is a monster," one of the other hunters answered.

Freddie scoffed, "So are the majority of Parliament, yet none of them are being hunted down like savage animals." 

"He is a killer. If he has not killed yet, he will kill. They always kill," the tallest and creepiest hunter said. 

"He is a vegetarian!" Freddie assured, "He wouldn't hurt a fly!" 

"Vegetarians don't eat innocent people's hearts!" Sally argued as she raised her weapon. 

Freddie gagged at the thought of someone eating another person's heart. He turned his head to look back at the rock and saw Roger peak out from beside it. 

"Eat human hearts?" Roger asked. Brian whined in protest.

The tall hunter gloated, "Didn't he tell you? Werewolves feed on human hearts. From the night they are turned, their hunger for hearts is never satisfied and they kill and they kill until they are killed!" 

"He hasn't killed anyone!" Roger snapped as he stepped fully out of their hiding place, "You said it yourself, red hot lady, he is different from the other werewolves." 

Freddie shook his head at his friend. _Will you please go back to where it is safer?_ Freddie wished. Roger cocked an eyebrow and gestured for Brian to come out into the open before the hunters. 

"C'mon, Bri," Roger called. Brian sighed and sulked out from behind the rock with his head low to the ground and his tail tucked between his legs. 

The hunters raised their weapons again and one of them shouted, "A full shifter!" 

Sally left her fellow hunter's ranks and walked down the hill towards the band to investigate. She had a ski mask over her face and protective lab goggles strapped over her eyes. Around her legs were leather full-chaps and she wore gardener's gloves on her hands. Sally had a sash across her torso containing more rounds and a utility belt hung at her waist. Her characteristic red hair was twisted into a braid that was pinned back at the base of her head. It was clear; she meant business. 

_Don't try anything stupid,_ Freddie thought as he shot Roger and Brian a glare. Brian dropped onto the ground and rolled over exposing his belly in an obviously submissive way. 

"Different," Sally mumbled to herself. She leaned down and let Brian sniff her hand. The werewolf forced a tail wag. 

"Different indeed," she said. She opened up a pocket on her chaps and pulled out a purple flower. Freddie watched as Brian's nose twitched at the smell and as Sally lightly dragged it over his fur. Brian sneezed but otherwise seemed perfectly unaffected. Sally ran her fingers over the fur that touched the flower and smelled her hand. Freddie tensed. _What is she doing?_ he pondered. 

She stood up and announced, "This werewolf has not killed anyone nor does he wish to. The wolfsbane did not singe him and the sweet taint of death is absent from him. He is innocent as his friends have said."

"Bloody hell," said the tallest hunter as he walked down from the hill to get a better look. He rubbed Brian's belly like a dog and Freddie couldn't help but smile at the look of cringe on Brian's face. 

"Lycan! The legend was true!" the hunger said, "My god, I can't believe that we were wrong. We are _never_ wrong." 

"They haven't been seen for over a thousand years. I wouldn't put it past ya," Sally laughed. 

The other two hunters came down from the hills and marveled over Brian. They scratched behind his ears, patted his back, and awed over him like he was a cute giant puppy. Brian kept still. The red and blue flashing lights of the police cars irradiated the treetops by the park entrance, and Freddie heard the slamming of car doors.

The tallest hunter turned to Freddie and Roger and said, "Whatever you do from this point on, know this: there are others like us that aren't as understanding. Do not speak of this say to anyone. And do not tell others who the wolf really is. The resurgence of his kind means something and it has nothing to do with civilians such as yourselves. A war is coming and you have no part in it."

Freddie nodded and said, "We will do as you ask, but I have one rule. If I ever see you or any of your slimy friends' faces ever again, I will make your lives miserable."

The hunter opened his mouth to protest but Sally blocked him off, "It will be done." 

As the sound of the police search party flooded the park, the werewolf hunters fled from the scene. As soon as they were out of eyeshot, Brian jumped up to all fours and let out a victorious howl. Roger sniffled back a tear and turned to his friends.

Freddie embraced Roger said, "It's alright, sweetheart. They are gone now." Roger choked on a sob. 

Brian squeezed his massive wolf body between the two of them. _Jealous mutt,_ Freddie thought with a smirk. Freddie and Roger ended their hug as the sounds of the police grew closer.

"Let's go back to your place, shall we?" Freddie asked Brian who was still looking between him and Roger.

The three hiked to the nearest path furthest away from the search party. Suddenly, Roger paused and Freddie almost ran into him.

"What?" Freddie asked.

Roger looked down at Brian who stood beside them and replied, "We need to get his clogs." 

———∞◊∞———

Roger and Freddie spent the rest of the night at Brian's flat. They tucked sleepy wolf Brian into his bedroom and closed the door. Freddie slept on Brian's couch and Roger slept on the floor using one of Brian's werewolf books as a pillow.

When morning came, Freddie and Roger scavenged through Brian's kitchen looking for something to eat. 

"I deserve a buffet and a bowl of fried chicken after all I suffered through last night," Freddie said as he swung open the refrigerator doors. 

"Dito," Roger agreed as he practically crawled into a cupboard looking for food. 

Brian's bedroom door creaked open and a fully clothed human Brian wandered out. His eyes landed on Freddie and Roger going through his kitchen and he screamed in surprise and jumped back. 

Freddie rolled his eyes and asked, "What is it?"

Brian's hands flew to his head and he stammered, "Last night... what...? The hunters?" 

"Gone," Roger replied from inside the cupboard, "Like all of your good food. Where is the fucking cheese? I've looked everywhere and it is nowhere to be found."

Brian tilted his head and said, "In the refrigerator?" 

Roger crawled out of the cupboard and shoved Freddie away from the fridge. Almost immediately, Roger pulled out a block of cheese. He shot Freddie a death glare and Freddie responded with a shrug. 

"In the cupboard my ass," Roger grumbled.

Roger brought the whole block of cheese over to Brian's table and took a bite of it. He pulled out a chair and gestured for Brian to sit down. Freddie turned on the stove to make tea. 

"Thank you," Brian said.

Freddie asked, "What for?"

"Everything," Brian replied, "Especially last night. You saved my life. I owe you."

Freddie grinned and asked, "Really, darling? You owe us?" 

Brian nodded and said, "Yes. Anything, I'll do it."

Roger looked up from his cheese and cocked an eyebrow. 

Freddie walked over to Brian and put his hands on his shoulders. He leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Find me a bassist." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay oh (ay oh) 
> 
> How was that for a climax? I haven't written one before, so I hope that it was alright. And yeah, I'm a sucker for cheesy lines.
> 
> We will meet the werewolf who turned Brian next chapter for the finale! Any last guesses? (If you guess correctly in the comments, I will give you a little shout out in the notes at the end.)
> 
> **Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! It means the world to me that you guys are enjoying and supporting this story!


	15. [Not really a] Cool Cat [but rather a cool Lycan]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter for "As It Began (A Queen Fanfiction)" and the conclusion to the first part of the series! 
> 
> Freddie found a new bass player.
> 
> Rogerina?
> 
> One dump one turd two tits...
> 
> 𝙔O𝙐.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Switch to Roger's POV

———∞◊∞———

It was a week after the incident in Hyde Park and a week after Freddie and Roger found out that Brian was a werewolf. They decided, or rather Freddie decided for them, that they would continue looking for a bassist for their band. The band sat in a circle in Freddie's living room after having just strung up the last of the flyers around the city of London. Brian had the genius idea of posting them by various universities to get some fresh blood.

"Fresh blood?" Roger remembered Freddie saying, "Didn't think you were a vampire too."

"Pipe it or I will eat your cats," Brian joked back earning a few confused stares by passersby. 

Roger snapped, "What are you looking at?" The walkers diverted their gaze and continued strolling. 

Now back at Freddie's Tom laid on Roger's lap eying Brian like he somehow knew about his joke. Roger stroked the cat's back and watched the cat's shedding fur fall onto the ground by his feet. 

A question loomed in the air like a storm cloud before a downpour. How would they tell them that their lead guitarist had a case of lycanthropy? 

"We'll tell them when the time is right," Brian told his bandmates breaking the silence, "That is what I wanted to do with you two."

Roger furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "And when is the time right? I don't think that there is a right time to say, 'Oh, by the way, Brian's a werewolf. The good kind.'"

"I don't know," Brian admitted. 

Freddie laughed and said, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, we just need someone to answer our advertisement." 

Freddie's phone rang from the kitchen and he jumped up from his couch to answer it. Roger looked over at Brian and grinned. 

"Freddie Bulsara of Queen speaking," Freddie said as he took the phone off of the hook. 

Brian raised his eyebrows and leaned towards the kitchen.

"Do you hear them on the phone?" Roger asked. 

Brian nodded and said, "Yeah. Someone answered our advertisements. They want to audition."

"Great! They never called us so quickly," Roger exclaimed. _That's gotta mean something good, right?_ Roger wondered. 

"Really? You can do it now?" Freddie asked from the kitchen grabbing back Roger and Brian's attention. _So soon? This guy must be pretty eager,_ Roger thought. Freddie paused a moment as the person on the other side of the phone answered. 

Freddie smiled and said, "Wonderful, darling. Please come to Foster's Place on the old Staff Terrace Street. It's a green building and I'm on the ground floor. See you soon!" 

Freddie hung up the phone and cheered, "He'll be here in half an hour!" 

Roger felt his heart palpitate and he gave Brian a look. 

"Half an hour?" Brian asked. 

"Yes, yes. He lives close by," Freddie said with a wave of his hand. 

"By 'now' I thought you meant he was just ready, Freddie," Roger said. 

Brian stood up from his seat and announced, "I'm going to go get food for the four of us considering they're going to be here around tea. I should be back before they get here, but in case I'm not, start without me." 

"Get wine, dear. I have a good feeling about this one!" Freddie beamed. 

Roger cocked an eyebrow and smirked. _Intending for our little bass boy to stay late, are we?_ Roger thought. Freddie flicked him off like he just read his mind. 

Brian squeezed out the door and Freddie turned to face Roger with his hands on his hips. 

"You are going to help me clean this flat so not a speck of dust lays visible to the eye," Freddie commanded. 

Roger brought his hand to his head to salute and mocked, "Aye aye, sir." 

Freddie tsk-tsked and picked up the clumps of cat hair that Roger rubbed off of Tom. 

"I'm sorry, mate, but I have to get up," Roger told the cat as he lifted him from his lap. He felt honoured whenever one of Freddie's cats decided to use him as a human bed and hated that he had to ruin the moment.

Freddie took to picking up loose leaves of paper containing song lyrics and stuffed them in a neat stack on his record player while Roger  picked up dirty glasses leftover from a late-night Scrabble game on the coffee table and brought them to the sink to wash. _Really? Who left these plates and pans in here?_ he thought as he carefully placed the glasses in an empty part of the sink. 

He turned on the water faucet and sighed, "Might as well do these too."

Roger hummed a song and scrubbed down the dishes. _Can't cook, but I can clean,_ he thought to himself. 

Freddie giggled from the living room, "What are you dancing to? You're bouncing your arse to some beat!"

Roger's face grew red and he dropped the pan he was washing into the sink. "I was not!" Roger argued, "I would know if I were dancing!" 

"Yes, you were. You were going like this," Freddie said as he demonstrated a one-legged bop. He turned his head to the side and puckered out his lips. 

Roger admitted, "Okay, maybe I was going that. But that's not dancing."

"Whatever it was, don't do it in front of the man auditioning. And certainly don't do it in front of Bri. You'll scare him off," Freddie laughed. 

Roger went back to washing the pan and grumbled, "Bastard." 

Thunder rolled over Freddie's building and rain started to rhythmically drip on the windowsill in the atrium. 

"Oh, dear," Freddie mumbled, "Hopefully they won't be stuck out in that too long and get soaked." 

Roger chuckled to himself. He remembered the time he was at Brian's early in the morning to pick him up for a band session and Brian's hair was completely deflated from just recently taking a shower. His hair was much longer when it was straight from the water and it created damp spots on the top of his shirt. Roger then pinched his nose as he recalled the excessive amount of cologne his friend wore when he got into his car. He had to roll his car windows down and the two had a good laugh. _He_ _probably fried his little wolf nose hairs trying to make a good impression,_ Roger thought. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. 

Roger put the dishes away and joined Freddie and his cats waiting by the front door for Brian and their bassist prospect. 

Right on time, someone rang the doorbell and knocked on the door. 

Freddie opened the door and in front of him stood a teenager drenched from the rain with a bass guitar case in one hand and a little boxlike structure wrapped up in bin liner. His wet mouse-brown hair clung to the sides of his face and reached down past his shoulders in length. He wore a collared shirt that was tightly tucked into his trousers. When he smiled his eyes looked like they squinted closed. Around him floated a faint smell of wet dog.

"Please come in," Freddie said as he held the door open to the man, "I'm Freddie Bulsara, lead vocalist, and pianist of Queen. We spoke on the phone earlier."

Roger extended his hand and introduced himself, "I'm Roger Taylor. I'm the drummer and one of the singers of Queen. Brian May, our guitarist, went to go get something for us to eat. He should be back shortly."

"Wonderful! Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," the man said. He has a peculiar accent that was crisp and distinct yet Roger couldn't place it.

Freddie guided the bass player to the living room where the rest of the band's gear was set up. He quickly pushed one of Brian's amps to the side to make room for the bassist. The bassist silently thanked Freddie and pulled a wooden homemade amp out of the bin liner.

He plugged it into the wall and said, "Made it myself a few months ago out of scraps I found in a dumpster."

"Fascinating, dear," Freddie purred, "And how did you know how to do such a thing?"

The bassist looked up and grinned. "I study electrical university at uni," he replied. 

"Always good to have an engineer in the band," Roger said. The bassist silently continued to set up his things.

Freddie suddenly asked, "What did you say your name was again, love?"

"John Deacon," the man answered. 

Roger asked, "And where are you from? I've never heard your accent before." 

John took his bass out of its case and began to tune it. "I'm from Leicester. Specifically, though, I'm from a little dormitory village southeast of it," John replied.

"Well, John, we can't wait to hear you play," Roger said. 

John played for them the Jackson Five's 'I Want You Back' and The Beatles' 'Come Together' changing it up from time to time or adding little embellishments. It was clear that John was an able bassist. Freddie twiddled a pencil between his fingers and Roger had to stifle a laugh at Freddie's smitten expression. 

"That was great, John!" Freddie exclaimed, "I'm sure that Brian will love you. What do you think, Rog?"

Roger looked over at John who eagerly looked on for approval. "Yes, you are very good," Roger said, "And I think that you may have the right personality." 

Roger heard the door open and picked up a stack of song lyrics. _Now that Brian's back we can go over some original songs with John,_ he thought.

A sharp pang of tension sang through Freddie's living room. Roger turned around and looked at John. John was still like a deer in headlights and his eyes _glowed a pale yellow._

Roger looked in the doorway into the living room and saw Brian standing there with his hair pressed flat and slicked back like a greaser. His furious facial expression contrasted John's almost fearful one. His eyes glowed like a burning fire.

Then Brian snarled through his fangs at John, " ** _YOU!_** " 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🐺🐺Shoutouts to the users who figured out that John Deacon was the werewolf that turned Brian: Drige (orphan account?), ActualBlanketGoblin, nastyhobbit 🐺🐺
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who gave this story a chance! 
> 
> I will begin planning the next installment in the series on 18 July. In it, we will explore the relationships within the band and mythological lore (like why do Brian's eyes glow amber while Deaky's glow yellow?.) Maybe even meet a Jim Beach, David Bowie, and Paul Prenter.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!


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